The Devil's Own
by FuryouMiko
Summary: Harry Potter, along with his Guardian Angel Lash, is about to start his third year of magical schooling. After the Basilisk incident, Hogwarts is in danger of closing forever, and now an escaped mass murderer is on the loose. Fortunately, the Dementors of Azkaban are on his trail... A sequel to Silently Watches' Deal with a Devil.
1. Prisoners, Perks and Pellings

Disclaimer: Harry Potter is property of JK Rowling. The Dresden Files are property of Jim Butcher. Original story concept and books 1 and 2 belong to SilentlyWatches. For the events of those books, see his story A Deal with a Devil.

* * *

 **Chapter 1: Prisoners, Perks, and Pellings**

On a storm-blasted island in the middle of the North Sea that appeared on no maps and had brought more than a few ships to grief as a result, two men were examining the high security wing of the infamous prison, Azkaban. Normally the domain of only prisoners and the soul-sucking demons known as Dementors, the Wardens would examine the whole prison at every fortnightly shift change by law.

"Nasty bit of business, that," one of the men said as they approached the area nicknamed Black Section. "Two teachers killed, and one of them an experienced dark creature hunter."

"Yeah, Smith's all torn up about it. You know he was sweet on Sinistra? Never got the chance to tell her," Sis relief agreed, peering in at a ragged, hangdog looking man with a matted mess of oddly familiar black curls who was simply lying there staring at the ceiling.

"What… happened?" He asked, slowly, turning his head to look at the Wardens.

"Basilisk at Hogwarts," The second told him with a shrug. "There's talk of shutting down the school. Few of the students were badly hurt… some even died."

The black-haired man flopped back to stare at the ceiling and waited for the guards to move on.

"Harry…" He whispered to himself, and closed his eyes against the tears.

Nearly a thousand miles away, Harry Potter sat up, eyes flying open to stare into the darkness. His heart was beating rapidly, and fear flooded his senses for a moment until he gathered himself enough to look around. The pale moonlight shone in through the open window, revealing a plainly decorated room with a desk and chair opposite the foot of his bed. A zippered pouch sat on the desk, along with a notebook and several small items of jewellery. The lace curtains billowed slightly in the southern French air as he remembered where he was.

After the traumatic end to his second year at Hogwarts' School of Witchcraft and Wizardry, Harry Potter had fled England to spend some time recovering from the ordeal. For the past few weeks, he had been staying in the guest room at his Veela friend Aimee's home in Toulon.

"What… the hell was that?" He whispered in English. A moment later, his closest friend and companion – for a long time, his _only_ friend and companion – appeared opposite him on the bed. Appearing as a blonde girl a year older than him with brilliant green eyes, the guardian angel Lash sat cross-legged in an elegant nightgown.

"It was a dream," she told him seriously. "And yet… it was more than that."

"It felt too real," He nodded. "Like I was standing right there…"

"I wonder," Lash mused, tapping her chin thoughtfully, before hopping off the bed to go stand by the window, subtly shifting to her adult form as she mentally slipped into teacher mode. "It's possible. There is a magical art called oneiromancy. It would not be the first time I've encountered such a talent."

"Oneiromancy?" Harry asked, mostly to prompt her. The dream was already fading from his mind as they usually did.

"The art of divination via dreams. For the most part it's as shallow as any other. Most purported dream-readers are simply analysts with a penchant for the dramatic. Those with the gift for actual prophetic or far-seeing dreams are as rare as any other kind of Seer."

"And you think I have this talent?" he asked. "I should have taken divination after all."

"It is a possibility. I will teach you how to meditate and call the visions up, but it will not be a swift process. Done incorrectly and you will call up the memory of watching the vision instead of the vision itself, and with the reconstructive nature of human memory…"

"It will lose accuracy," Harry nodded in understanding. They'd had that talk several times. With the exception of unique individuals like the school librarian Madam Pince, and non-human entities such as Lash, humans rarely truly remembered events in detail, but instead recalled the general gist of events and filled in the details using imagination. This, among other reasons, was why eye witness testimonies were no longer admissible in mortal courts.

"Go back to sleep," Lash told him. "I will view the vision and attempt to interpret it while you do so. Whoever this man is, if he were not important, you would not be having visions of him."

"Right," Harry sighed, and lay back. He was asleep again in a shockingly short amount of time.

* * *

Amy Pelling was quite an ordinary girl. Fifteen years old, she had grey eyes and a playful smile. She lived on Ynys Enlli with her parents, who had a farm on the island and spoke mostly Welsh at home. She went to church every Sunday, went to school in Botwnnog every week day, spent time with her friends in Pwllheli and was very proud of her knee-length curtain of blonde hair. Ever since the start of the summer holidays, however, things had started to get a little weird, especially on the island. She'd heard strange noises at night, and once even been convinced she'd seen a woman flying on a broomstick on the mainland side. Now here she was, staring at the dead end at the back of a cave in the hill, one of the chickens in a cage and a knife in her other hand… and no idea how she'd gotten here in the middle of the night with no shoes on.

Amy Pelling ran for home as fast as she could, mentally composing a list of boys on the island she could claim to be seeing. There was no way she was admitting to her parents that she'd nearly been faerie led after decrying their superstitions so many times.

* * *

One afternoon at the end of June, Harry let a contented smile cross his face as he sat back on the sun lounger. Spending the summer in Toulon had definitely been the best plan he'd come up with since January, and it was definitely summer this far south.

"Your plan?" Lash asked, arching one eyebrow. The blonde was impossibly balancing on the balcony railing, stretched out in a strapless red bikini and sunglasses, of all things.

"Well, I did say I needed to find somewhere to relax," he murmured in reply, tipping his lemonade to her in acknowledgement. It had been a month since the disastrous evacuation of Hogwarts School for Witchcraft and Wizardry and the end of his second year, and he had spent most of that time talking to Aimée and her mother.

Mostly her mother, at Lash's suggestion. Lisette had been helpful in coming to terms with the results of the final battle, and he was finally starting to accept that he really had done everything he could to protect the people of the castle. It helped far more than Dumbledore's assurances that he should not blame himself for failing to protect anyone when it was not his responsibility to do so in the first place.

"Albus Dumbledore is an old soldier," Lash reminded him. "He has fought so that children do not have to, and watched those assurances fall by the wayside as attrition ground down the reserve of adults until he had no choice but to send children to fight anyway. Lisette, however, knows you are a warrior at heart. She has seen you risk your life for those you barely know. While many sins may perhaps be laid at Dumbledore's feet, you cannot blame him for a blind spot such as this, Harry."

"I don't," He shook his head. "I don't know what he was thinking last year, but I do think he was trying his best. Nobody could have predicted what happened if even you didn't see it coming," He gave her a wary smile.

"While I am knowledgeable, Harry, I am not omniscient. There were too many factors pointing towards a single perpetrator for even me to untangle that web," Lash reminded him gently. He could tell that the compliment had pleased her, however. Their relationship was much more stable than it had been after the revelation of her origins… and perhaps more mature.

"Harry," Aimée's high, sweet voice drew his attention to where the adolescent Veela was standing by the door to the rest of the house. "Maman says that it's safe to go down to the beach now, if you were still wanting to go swimming."

"Ah, yeah," He smiled back, and swallowed his drink. He had been looking forward to swimming since the idea had been raised two days ago, but with the fact he'd never swum in the sea before, she'd decided that they couldn't go without supervision.

Swimming was always a dicey proposition, especially for young Veela who had not yet perfected their control over their Allure. Even with the private beach attached to the colony, there was always the chance of some muggle or ignorant wizard wandering past the boundary or being swept up while sailing past, even ignoring the chance of rips dragging unsuspecting swimmers miles out to sea.

The beach itself was beautiful, even if Harry were able to drag his eyes away from the strangely magnetic pull of the small crowd of adult and teenage Veela playing on the beach.

"Ah. It seems you have finally noticed girls," Lash commented dryly. That was enough to break the mesmerised hold the sheer amount of attractive femininity had over his developing libido as he gave her a narrow-eyed glare. Her bikini had been augmented with a wide, floppy white hat and a towel slung over one arm.

Aimée ran ahead towards the water's edge, Lisette following at a more sedate pace. Harry grinned and ran after them, some hitherto unknown instinct driving him to race his young friend to the water's edge and prove his athletic ability… which turned out to be not quite enough to overtake the speedy Veela, who had a lot more practice running on sand than he did.

"Something to rectify," Lash noted as Harry skidded, foot going out from under him as he tried to stop and dumping him on his bottom in the surf. A beat later, all four of them started laughing. Lisette offered him a hand up, then he turned back to her daughter to make a joke about it only for the words to die in his treat as she started to gather her sundress up… he felt his face heat as he finally started to process that they would swim naked. He'd known it. He'd even come down here without a swimsuit in the knowledge that it would be expected. It was simply normal here.

His mouth went dry as his friend lifted her dress up, only to pause when she realised he was staring. She started to blush as well, and as if by mutual agreement, they both turned their backs on each other to pretend it had never happened.

"Oh, the British and their prudishness," Lisette sighed, her voice thick with laughter.

"Oh, the trials of adolescence," Lash counter-quipped, even though Lisette couldn't hear her. She earned herself another dirty look from Harry regardless. Fortunately, he was saved from further embarrassment by a bell going off in the back of his head that made him freeze up.

"Harry? What is wrong?" Lisette asked, no longer laughing. Aimée responded to the tone of alarm in her voice as if summoned, moving to within easy reach of her mother.

"It's alright. Someone is trying to get into my workshop," Harry replied. "Quite ardently. I had, uh…" he glanced at Aimée, and blushed again. "I should, uh, probably go and check it out."

"Yes, it's fine. We understand. Perhaps next time, you will get to swim with us," Lisette said, relaxing.

"Right," He nodded back, and closed his eyes for a moment, running his thumb across the ring focus he wore. "See you soon. _Darbas_."

* * *

"I don't care, you have no right to make such decisions. Sally-Anne will not be going to another of your death trap magical institutions. We will home school her, and that is that," Sally-Anne drifted back into awareness of the world as her mother's impassioned diatribe came to an end. It had been like this for months since she had seen those eyes through the Friar, frozen in a moment of medication-driven insomnia, she had remained mostly aware of the world despite her petrifaction, drifting in and out of mental flights of fancy. She didn't think anyone knew. From what she had heard, the adults all expected her to be completely unaware of the world beyond the supposedly unseeing glossiness of her petrified eyes.

"I see. I'm sorry to hear that," The ministry man's voice did sound genuinely remorseful, which terrified her. It meant he was going to… "Stupefy. Obliviate," He added, a moment later. "Madam Comile, if you would hold off on the mandrake draught until her magic has been bound, we can at least spare her that pain."

"If only I could," The Healer replied. "The stasis effect of the petrification means we can't do anything to her until it's been removed. It's only a mercy that the mind is put to sleep by the effect. The few incidents of people who have been petrified while under the effects of pepper-up or something similar have ended in tragedy. Wizards have been driven mad by the isolation and fear."

"Ah," The ministry man who had claimed to be a caseworker from the Division for Magical Education sighed regretfully. "What a mess. You know, I usually only have to do this once every three or four years, but the last two years, first with the Granger girl and then four or five others over the last year? It's a bad time to be parent to a muggleborn. Well, best get it over with suppose."

The Healer must have agreed, for a moment later she was leaning over Sally-Anne to apply the Mandrake to her dry lips. Feeling returned, sweeping through her as the potion infiltrated her body, restoring her to life from the inside out. When the others had been woken earlier that morning, they had been groggy. Confused.

There was a snapping sound, and Sally-Anne felt something give way inside her. Her wand. They had snapped her wand. Helplessly, the restorative not having restored her motor control yet, she felt the man from the DME lift her left hand and begin scratching away at the skin with a specialised cutting curse. The pain was incredible as he etched the ogham script through the skin and down into the bone. Sally-Anne screamed.

"Hush. Hush, it will all be over soon, and then you'll never have to think about scary magic and horrible monsters again," The Healer pinned her shoulders down to stop her bucking the man off. "Oscar, something's not right. She's not disoriented, her eyes are-"

Sally-Anne knew what her eyes were. Focused. She bought her legs up, getting one foot in under the DME man's shoulder, and shoved him away. Flailing with her right hand, she desperately drew her magic. They might have snapped her wand and partially sealed her, but it was still there, still hers, and she had had months of nothing to do but make plans and listen to her friends when they visited.

"I'm sorry, too," She whispered, and pushed as her hand came into contact with the Healer's chest, blasting her across the room as magic followed motion and intent. Sally-Anne swung herself out of the bed. Her parents lay where they had slumped in the uncomfortable looking visitor's chairs, but Sally-Anne knew it was too late for them. The man had already wiped their memories. Maybe just of magic. Maybe of her. She was magical after all. Had been all her life. Erasing her entirely would be close enough for government work, considering how detailed the work would have to be to remove every instance of accidental magic from her childhood.

Sally-Anne ran past them. Even though she'd been in bed for months, the same stasis that had prevented her eyes from drying out had prevented her muscles from atrophy, and she had been practicing running since her encounter with the slavers.

Running helped her think, and right now there was only one place she could think to run.


	2. Sally-Anne

Disclaimer: Harry Potter is property of JK Rowling. The Dresden Files are property of Jim Butcher. Original story concept and books 1 and 2 belong to SilentlyWatches. For the events of those books, see his story A Deal with a Devil available on at s/11188292/1/Deal-with-a-Devil

* * *

 **Chapter 2: Sally-Anne**

Harry drew his thorn wand as he appeared at the edge of the tree line that protected his shed from view. No sense ghosting into arm's reach of whoever was trying to break into his home away from home. Still, whatever he expected was not what he found.

A familiar head of blonde hair atop a small, feminine frame nearly drowned by the full-size man's shirt she was wearing. Hair, girl, and shirt were all filthy, and her feet were jammed into a pair of too-small sandals. Sally-Anne was slumped where his blasting ward had knocked her to the ground, and the soft sound of sniffles was just about reaching him.

"Her left wrist. Look," Lash cautioned him as he was about to run towards her. He squinted, and the Fallen helpfully highlighted what she had picked out. A series of swirly, dark scabs around her wrist. "Someone has attempted to bind her magic."

"Just like Granger," he murmured. "But she obviously still remembers, and other side is unmarked. She's in trouble."

"She is, but one has to wonder why she is here. She should be happily reunited with her parents and discussing her options for schooling in September. Given her past history, the chances of her accepting Obliviation and binding as Granger did are effectively zero," Lash pointed out. "It is possible that this is a trap."

"I'm not sensing anyone else within range of the wards. No magic other than ours," Harry replied a moment later. "I can't just leave her there, Lash," He didn't wait for a reply, crossing the clearing to where his friend was crumpled on the floor and knelt at her side.

"Sally-Anne?" he asked, quietly, reaching out towards her shoulder, although he stopped before actually touching her.

"Harry?" She looked up at him, eyes wide and slightly unfocused.

"I'm here," He whispered, slipping an arm under her shoulders to lift her to her feet. "What happened to you?" He helped her limp into to the shed.

"From the smell and level of grime, I'd say she's been living rough for a few days," Lash relayed quietly. "Without further medical treatment. Get her settled before asking anything."

"Its… I remember, Harry. I still remember. I'm still me," Sally-Anne babbled quietly, before looking at him and gasping softly. There was a slight sheen across her eyes, like a cat's eye caught in the light. A moment later, she slumped a little, squinting. "Beautiful…"

"Er, Sally-Anne?" he asked in confusion as he lowered her into his scavenged desk chair.

"I did something to my eyes," She said, a little hysterically. "Your cousin said you were out here, but I couldn't find it until I thought, maybe you hid it with magic, only they snapped my wand so I…"

Harry gave Lash a helpless look. At the angel's direction, he gently hugged the crying girl, kneeling next to her and rubbing her back in little circles. She immediately latched onto his shoulders in a crushing, desperate hug.

"It's ok," He told her quietly. "You don't need a wand to do magic, and we can get you a new one for the complicated stuff. We can figure out what they did to your hand and get you back on your feet."

"All… alright. If you think that's best," Sally-Anne whispered. "I don't know what to do. They… they got my parents."

"It's ok, Sally-Anne. We'll figure out what to do. Maybe we can restore them. Whatever happens, I'm not going to abandon you. I promise. Okay?"

"I trust you," Sally-Anne replied softly, her grip loosening a little.

"I'm going to let go now, ok? I'm not going anywhere, just across the room to put the kettle on," Harry kept talking softly as he pulled away, and Sally-Anne let him go reluctantly.

"O-ok," She whispered, although she didn't take her eyes off him as he prepared tea for the two of them in silence. Only when his blonde friend was holding a chipped white mug in both hands did he speak again.

"So. Start from the beginning. The last we knew, you were being taken to St Mungo's during the evacuation."

She did not speak immediately, instead playing with her mug for a long moment. "Is it true that you're the one who killed the basilisk?"

"Ah… no, not exactly…" he said with a sheepish chuckle. "The Heir turned out to be a diary that was possessing first-years. Is that the story that's going around now?"

"The nurses mentioned it… they thought I couldn't hear them," Sally-Anne whispered. "It was supposed to put me into a coma as well as freezing my body, but I was awake the whole time."

"Locked-in syndrome," Lash put in helpfully. "To have survived with as much sanity intact as she has speaks of a great deal of inner fortitude."

"So what happened?" Harry asked. "I know they were preparing Mandrakes, but that's the last we heard about what was going on."

"My parents wanted to withdraw me from the school so I could be homeschooled. He didn't even explain what it would mean, he just pulled out his wand and Obl… Obliviated them," She stammered the word out, her face twisting into a mix of rage and fear as she forced it out. "The Healer said I would have to be woken up before he could bind my magic, so…" She turned her hand to show him the scabs on her wrist. "I escaped. I couldn't think of anywhere else to go, but I had your address, and…"

He nodded. "I did say you should come visit. I'm sorry I wasn't here when you first arrived. After the battle… I've been spending a lot of time with some friends in France. They've been helping me deal with what happened," He fell silent, staring into his tea.

"I…" Sally-Anne was quiet for a few minutes before continuing. "I don't know what to do now. W-what _can_ we do?"

"Well…" Harry bit his lip, glancing at Lash. She gave him an encouraging smile, so he continued slowly. "You have a couple of choices, I guess. Letting them finish might not be the worst option. You would just go back to being a muggle. But that sounds like a terrible idea. If we can restore your parents' memories, you could continue as you were. Go back to school, wherever they send us. If they knew the alternative was forgetting, they might change their minds. If we can't restore them, then… There has to be something else we can do."

"Can't… can't I just stay here?" Sally-Anne asked.

"It's not really feasible, Sally-Anne…" He replied softly. "We don't have plumbing, no real kitchen. I could ask my friends in France, but… Well, they're not human. But," He took a moment to think. "I could ask Madam Pince for help. She probably knows half the laws in the country."

"The scary librarian?" Sally-Anne asked in an uncertain voice.

"Yes. She was really helpful when I was investigating Lockhart," Harry nodded. "And she stood up for me when Dobby… well, when I was researching the thing that attacked you. She has an eidetic memory. Are you alright with me asking her about it?"

"S-she won't tell anyone else?" She bit her lip, then nodded. "Thank you… Susan would have to tell her aunty, and Hannah just lives too far away…"

"Alright. I'll send her a letter with everything in it," Harry nodded, reaching over to grab a scroll and fountain pen, watching her out of the corner of his eye as he wrote. He frowned slightly as he noticed that she kept rubbing at her eyes and temples.

"When was the last time you slept?" He asked as he rolled the scroll up.

"I… I kipped for a few hours in the Woolworths porch…" She replied. "But I didn't want to risk anything…"

"Alright. I'm going to have to ghost over to Diagon to post this, so you should take a nap… ah… hm," He paused thoughtfully. "I'll take you to my uncle's house. You look like you could use a shower, and Aunt Petunia shouldn't object too much," He offered her his hand and helped her to her feet, stifling a sigh as she refused to let go of his hand.

"I do not think that you appreciate the enormity of what you are considering, Harry," Lash said, manifesting on his other side in a white pantsuit. "Taking responsibility for her is far beyond your means even with Voldemort's blood money."

He shook his head slightly, and not for the first time wished he could communicate with her without speaking aloud. When they reached the house, he realised that the car was missing and the back door was locked. The Dursleys had gone out.

" _Bats'vel_ ," He murmured, passing his free hand over the lock as it clicked. Sally-Anne gasped slightly behind him.

"You can still do it," She whispered, drawing a confused look from Harry. "The wandless magic. Susan said… what you did before was shaped accidental magic and it would just… it wasn't precise enough to replace proper spells…"

"Well… no…" Harry gave her a sheepish smile. "I'll explain about it later," He led her up to the bathroom. "Take a shower. When you're done, just go lie down in there," He pointed her to the second bedroom. "I should be back before you're done though," He slipped free of her hand to retrieve a couple of fluffy white towels and hung them up on the rail.

"Th- thanks, Harry," Sally-Anne bit her lip, fingers still curled at her side as though clutching his hand. She thought about asking him to stay, to wait to post the letter, but the words stuck in her throat. Again. She nodded instead.

"Alright," He smiled, and then vanished into thin air right in front of her eyes.

* * *

"Harry, I honestly believe you may have finally snapped," Lash told him as they returned to the house an hour later.

"Aren't you supposed to support my decisions?" He asked back, archly. "The last thing I want is to slip up in front of her. Especially given that she probably still remembers me having a whole conversation with you back then, and… well… I need an explanation for how I learned my magic," His words became more awkward the longer he spoke, until Lash sighed and gave him a hug.

"If you feel you must. I fear that she will take it badly, given her anxiety and the true source of her attacker last year," Lash told him, "but I had not realised just how heavy this burden of knowledge had become for you. You must handle this very carefully, however, if you do not wish to drive her away. In fact, it may be best if you introduce me as something other than what I am… a spirit of air and knowledge perhaps…"

"No," He shook his head. "No lies between friends. Not after what that plan nearly cost _us_ , oh Guardian," He pushed the back door open and left his shoes by it, putting one of the bags he carried aside then climbing the stairs on stocking feet. The bathroom door opened just as he reached the top, revealing a scrubbed-pink Sally-Anne wrapped in a towel, clean blonde hair sweeping her shoulders unevenly before tumbling halfway down her back. She paused at the sight of him, blinking, then blushed slightly.

"Ah…" She hesitated. "Hey?"

"H-hey yourself," He replied, heat rushing to his own cheeks, before offering her the M&S bag he was holding. "I picked you up some pajamas to wear on the way back. J-just until I can get some of your stuff," He explained quickly. One hand holding her towel in place, the blonde took the bag from him with the other, then nodded, squinting down at it. "I'll, uh… be with you in a moment," He added, looking away as she nodded and took the bag into his bedroom.

"Oh, Harry. Never change," Lash joked. "Although I am worried…" She added, walking down the stairs backwards as he went back to the kitchen. He rolled his eyes at the sight of her showing off, and she smiled as he apparently once again played into her ploy. "She was not so short-sighted last year. I fear she has done something permanent to her eyes with her improvised magic."

"Short-sighted?" Harry asked, moving to plate up the fish and chips he'd bought. "The squinting," He realised. "She said she did something to see my shed… but she's magical, she should have been able to just…" He paused, considering. "The incomplete binding," He murmured. "It's on her left wrist, the side that takes in energy. It must have messed with her ability to perceive magic."

"Using magic to repair the structures of the eye is inadvisable due to the high probability of unintended consequences," Lash confirmed, her voice taking on the lecturing tone she always had when quoting something she had read. "That's why wizards still require spectacles."

A quick glance over revealed his friend to be adjusting a pair of glasses while wearing what appeared to be a stylised scholar's gown, drawing a laugh from his lips.

"Ah, Harry?" Salle-Anne's hesitant voice brought him back down to the ground. He looked at her, standing in the doorway to the rest of the house in the navy-blue boys' pajamas he'd bought her. For some reason, despite his original intent, he had frozen up at the idea of going into the girls' clothing section, much to Lash's amusement.

"Feel a bit better?" He asked, instead of commenting on just how attractive he found the sight.

"Yes, thank you," Sally-Anne replied, softly. She bit her lip. "I… th.. y… I…" she stammered, trying to make the words come out.

"I'll explain in a moment," He told her with a smile, then gestured to the kitchen table. "Hop up and let me have a look at your wrist so we can make sure it's not infected, then you can eat something, ok?"

Sally-Anne nodded, mutely, and obeyed. He gently rolled her sleeve back to examine the marks on her wrist, now clear of the scabs. Fortunately, they appeared to be healing neatly.

"I don't know if we can do anything about them," Lash said, softly. "Her magic may be crippled until we can find a counter-curse. What do you notice about the residual magic in them?"

"It's echoey, like that crucio curse…" He muttered with a frown. "Trimble's book said that was a sign of dark magic. I guess anything designed to leave permanent scarring would have to be along those lines…"

"H-Harry?" Sally-Anne asked.

"Oh, sorry, Sally-Anne," He looked up at her and let go of her hand. The blonde took it back, rubbing the scars gently. "I don't think we can do anything about the binding just yet, but I asked Madam Pince about it, so she might be able to tell us more. Otherwise, I… have some ideas. I won't let them take your memories."

"Thank you…" She whispered, looking at him almost worshipfully. He looked away, blushing, and pushed the plate towards her.

"Eat…" He mumbled, taking a minute to centre himself as she did so. Sitting opposite her, he picked at his own portion for a moment. "So… yes. I talk to myself. Or rather, ah…"

"You talk to her," Sally-Anne said, catching both Harry and Lash completely off guard. "She's pretty, but so sad... she loves you."

"She can see me?" Lash asked, hollowly. "But… how? I don't exist outside your mind…"

"What do you mean?" Harry asked, instead.

"Wh… who is she, Harry? Is she why you can do wandless magic?"

"Yes," He replied. "Her name is Lash, and she's my guardian angel. A Fallen, working to earn her way back into heaven," He explained in a rush. "She's been with me since I was nine, teaching me. Looking after me."

"A… repentant demon?" Sally-Anne asked, swallowing past her suddenly dry mouth. "Looking after you? But… no, back then… you said… your family used to lock you in a cupboard… is that why..?"

"Neither of us know exactly why I, of all people, deserve the attention of a guardian angel," He shook his head. "But she was my first and greatest friend, and my mentor besides," He hesitated. "Sally-Anne… you can't tell anyone about this. A few of the adults know I have a tutor, but if they find out her nature, especially after last year, they'll try and take her away."

"I understand," She replied. "I won't tell anyone. Can… can I meet her? Your friends… are my friends. I hope."

"Um…" Harry hesitated, looking at Lash.

"I can speak to her if you give me control, but it may be disturbing," Lash replied. "I do not think it is a good idea."

"What do you mean by disturbing?" He asked, lifting an eyebrow.

"You haven't noticed because you're always on the inside, but when I take control, my eyes appear on your forehead and glow," Lash smirked a bit. "Not the most reassuring of sights."

"No…" Harry shuddered slightly, then looked back to an increasingly worried Sally-Anne. "Apparently yes, you can meet her, but it'll be freaky because of the eye thing."

"Eye… eye thing?" Sally-Anne's much abused lip suffered yet more damage as she considered. She opened her mouth to ask to meet Lash, but the words got stuck again, her throat closing up against them.

"It's alright," Harry murmured, reaching over to take her hand. She looked up at him, startled, and let him pull it across the table once she's gotten over her initial flinch.

"Wh… what are you doing?" She asked, quietly, as he started to stroke the back of her hand in circles and lines. It had an oddly calming effect, as if he were forcing the tension in her arm to release.

"It's a light massage technique," Harry replied, his voice softer and lighter than usual, keeping his face turned down so his hair hid his brow completely. "I am teaching him so that he can help you."

"Teaching..?" Sally-Anne squeaked, then looked down. "Oh... oh! It's… It's nice to meet you, Professor L-Lash."

"Just Lash," Lash replied with Harry's lips. "Thank you for being Harry's friend. He needs people like you so that he doesn't lose touch with the mortal world." As they spoke, they turned Sally-Anne's hand over to do the same to the palm. "I will answer the question that burns inside you, Sally-Anne, if you answer one of my own."

"A- a question?" Sally-Anne bit her lip, free hand going to rub at her temple. "Al..alright. If Harry trusts you, so- so will I."

"Tell me about what you have done to your eyes," Lash commanded. This was not what she had been expecting, and Sally-Anne glanced up at her, wide-eyed, then squeaked as she saw the glowing green shapes above Harry's eyes.

"I…" Sally-Anne swallowed, staring into those false irises. "I couldn't find the shed, but-but it felt like one of those muggle-repelling wards we were taught about. I thought that... May-maybe the binding had worked, and my magic was gone, but I could still feel _something_ … so-so I pushed it into my eyes, trying to for-force myself to see-see what was really there… and then… then I could. I could... Could see the path to the shed, and-and the castle around it, and the… the alarm tower… th-then when you appeared, I could see… see you," She stopped to breathe, realising that her words had run away with her again, and brought her other hand up to clasp Harry-Lash's, stilling them. "It's beautiful. You're both so strong… even… even though you're bleeding so much… and.. And it's because you have each other… because… because you wrap his wounds with silk… and he fits into… the miss-missing parts of you. But I can't… I can't switch it off."

"It seems like you have unlocked a form of Wizard's Sight," Lash murmured, not noticing how she squeezed Sally-Anne's hand in return. "To answer your question, yes. I will teach you. But the lessons will be hard. You will have to let go much of your previous knowledge. And you will have to trust me implicitly, because I do not live in your head, and that means that we will need to use psychomancy to show you the difference between the wanded magic you have learned, and the evocation I have taught Harry."

Harry flinched as Lash finished speaking, and the eyes vanished, the firm yet gentle grip on her hands turning rough and uncertain.

"Psychomancy? Lash, what if it… what if we hurt her?" He asked, looking around until he found her avatar, sitting startled on the table. He had pushed her out rather roughly and she had not expected it.

"H-Harry?" Sally-Anne asked, cautiously.

"Yes," He nodded back, giving her a tired smile. "Sorry, I didn't mean to startle you."

"You won't hurt her," Lash shook her head. "As you will not be making changes to her personality or permanently altering any part of her mind, the risks of this kind of psychomancy are negligible. I have effectively been doing the same to you since we met. The only difference is that we will use your magic to form a bridge between your mind and hers."

"Alright," Harry relaxed a little. "We should do that as soon as possible before you see… something you rather wouldn't," He said to Sally-Anne, blushing slightly at the memory of being called beautiful.

"Damn hormones," Lash quipped, to his confusion.


	3. Mrs Perks

Disclaimer: Harry Potter is property of JK Rowling. The Dresden Files are property of Jim Butcher. Original story concept and books 1 and 2 belong to SilentlyWatches. For the events of those books, see his story A Deal with a Devil available on at s/11188292/1/Deal-with-a-Devil

* * *

 **Chapter 3: Mrs. Perks**

Over the next couple of days they settled into a routine. With the Dursleys still away visiting Aunt Marge, Harry and Sally-Anne spent most of their time in the shed, returning to Privet Drive for meals while they worked on teaching the blonde magic, Lash-style. Irma Pince's reply told them to sit tight and stay under cover while she looked into matters; apparently she was having a difficult time of it herself, between dealing with the Aurors and other ministry officials who were tearing the castle apart looking for further dangers and packing up some of the library. On the third day, Harry ghosted to Sally-Anne's house to retrieve some of her belongings. He appeared just up the road, tucked into an alleyway, and knocked a bin over.

"Harry, the cloak," Lash ordered in a rush, prompting him to pull his father's invisibility cloak around his shoulders and over his head, just in time as a man wearing a policeman's uniform from the nineteen thirties peered into the alleyway suspiciously.

" _Nvachel,_ " Harry subvocalized, skipping across the man's thoughts with as light a touch as he could manage. He was a Patrolman from the Department of Magical Law Enforcement. He was there to watch for Sally-Anne attempting to return to her home. She was wanted for assault and conspiring to break the International Statute of Secrecy.

"Must have been a cat or something," The Patrolman muttered, shoving his hands in his pockets and stomping down the alleyway to double check. Harry pressed himself against the wall to make sure the man didn't bump him, then darted out into the street behind him. Fortunately, there weren't many people wandering around the pleasant suburb at ten in the morning and he managed to make it all the way up the road to number eleven without being noticed or tripped over. There were no cars in the driveway, but he could see a middle-aged woman with Sally's dishwater blonde hair through the window. She was huddling at one end of the sofa with a photo album. The mantelpiece had been cleared recently, and now held a single, recent photograph of a nervously smiling Sally-Anne wearing a muggle school uniform he didn't recognise.

"That is not good," Lash murmured. "We should be circumspect but check the woman's surface thoughts to make certain."

Harry nodded and let himself in, setting the door to without letting it close properly. Still under the cloak, he slipped into the front room and then into Mrs. Perks' mind only to recoil at the wave of grief that rolled towards him. Whatever story the magicals had given Sally-Anne's parents, they believed her to be dead now. He respectfully withdrew and headed up to the room Sally-Anne had directed him to. The obliviators who had cleaned it up had done a fair job of it. A slightly suspicious Alice Cooper poster shared wall space with a Holyhead Harpies team shot that had been transfigured to look like a rugby team and an En Vogue poster. The incongruity made Harry's eyes water until he fed a little more power to his anklet and Alice Cooper turned into the Weird Sisters.

Harry quickly took the posters down and rolled them up, slipping them into his magic bag before moving to the wardrobes. Sally-Anne's plush terrier followed them, and then her clothes too quickly to acknowledge. Her school things had been replaced with a handful of painfully forged notebooks, naturally, and there was unfortunately no way he could retrieve her trunk.

A last look around told him that he'd grabbed everything important, and a moment later he pressed his thumb to his ghosting ring and took himself back to Privet Drive, by way of a short walk in Leeds.

Madame Pince's second letter found him on the way from Privet Drive to the shed. He opened it to read on the way.

 _Mr. Potter,_

 _Things are improving here at the castle. I managed to investigate a little for you. Your friend is in trouble, but from what you've told me it should be a simple matter to clear up. If I remember, your friend was on good terms with Susan Bones. Her aunt will be sympathetic to her circumstances, which means that the situation is not as dire as it could be. Sally-Anne's case is set to be heard before a magistrate on the fifteenth, whether she is present or not. If she's found guilty, precedent says that the binding on her magic be completed and she be placed in Approved Premises until she can be reintegrated with society when she is old enough, but Amelia might be able to mitigate things if she testifies that there was misconduct on the part of Oscar Thorpe, the caseworker responsible for her obliviation. There is no way to remove the binding, but depending on how complete it is it may be possible to adapt it – if you send me a copy of the sigils used I will consult with Professor Babbling on what we can do._

 _Sincerely,_

 _Irma Pince_

"So we need to talk to Susan Bones," Lash decided as they entered the woods. "Her aunt would almost certainly have the clout to take her in, and Susan would be very upset to learn that her friend was under threat of losing her magic over a minor incident of racism, especially one where she was the victim."

"Um… racism?" Harry asked, as they approached the shed.

"What else would you call it when one group, in a position of power, oppresses a second, yet more numerous group, based on the lack of a single ethnic trait?"

"That trait being magic?" Harry guessed. "You're saying what happened to Sally-Anne is because the caseworker was contemptuous of muggles?"

"Effectively, yes. Anyone who respected their ability to make decisions would have informed them that removing Sally-Anne from magical education would result in their memories being wiped, if only to persuade them to reverse their decision. Instead, and I suspect this is what happened to Miss Granger as well, her parents made the decision in ignorance and now their daughter is worse off for it."

"I'm not sure how worse off she is for not being trampled by trolls," Harry noted as they entered the workshop. Sally-Anne was hunched over the hand lathe, turning a blackthorn rod.

"Just because Granger does not have magic to protect herself does not mean that trolls are not real," Lash reminded him. "Although living in a muggle district does come with its own protections."

"I suppose," Harry murmured, so as not to disrupt Sally-Anne's concentration. "Well, we still don't know how to undo the binding or restore her memories, so it's a moot point in either case."

"Ah…" Sally-Anne huffed out as she sat up. "The rod's done, I just have to etch the runes and attune it. That's half the work down," She lied to herself, rubbing at her head before looking at Harry. "How did it go?" She asked, before slumping slightly at the grim look on his face.

"I got your things," He replied, softly. "But it's as bad as we feared. I need you to write a letter to Susan asking for her aunt's help to get things cleared up. Lash says she'll help you write it. The short of it is, the obliviator filed a report against you and you need legal representation," he sighed.

"And… and my parents?" She asked, tremulously.

"I'm sorry," He whispered.

"Are they okay?" Sally-Anne asked, quietly, rubbing at her eyes with the back of the hand with the chisel in it.

"They're fine, just… mourning. The obliviators took the easiest route and just… I'm sorry," He mumbled, unable to finish the sentence.

"Wizards. Purebloods. They really hate us, don't they?" Sally-Anne asked. She put the chisel down carefully.

"What do you mean?" Harry asked, warily.

"Just… erasing people's' memories as the easy way out. Not even explaining what they're going to do or why. Just disposing of us, like pests," Her voice was tight, her eyes constricted.

"I don't think it's hate," He sighed, moving forwards to hug her gently. "They're just… wrong. People who grew up in the wizarding world? They've been taught all their lives that normal people are a threat. Stupid and lesser, but dangerous. But it's not their fault that they're wrong about us. We'll just have to change their minds somehow, I guess?"

"... You're too- too optimistic," Sally-Anne stammered quietly, but she stopped shaking and hugged him back.

"I rather agree with her," Lash admitted. "You won't change centuries of ingrained racism with a few happy speeches and laws."

"I know," He sighed, softly, to both of them. "Well. Before we get into any of that… we actually have to do something this afternoon, now you can make yourself presentable."

"We do?" She blinked at him. She was wearing an old nightie of Petunia's that rather swamped her.

"We do," He nodded. "We're going to get your eyes tested, since Lash says it's too dangerous to try and repair them magically."

"... I always thought I'd look good in glasses…" She mumbled, bravely.

"That's the spirit," Lash smirked. "Face your inner demons."

"I put your stuff in my room," He told her, ignoring his angel's sarcasm. "Put on some proper clothes and I'll ghost us over to Toulon… that way we can avoid any legal issues."

"Um… Ha-harry, I don't… speak French…" Sally-Anne pointed out.

"That's alright. I'm fluent," He smiled back. "I wonder if there's a translation potion or charm, though…" He mused, thoughtfully.

"A question for later," Lash noted. "Escort your lady back to the house and let us be away."

"Lash is getting impatient," Harry grinned, sheepishly. "Let's go."

* * *

Two weeks later, Sally-Anne was safely installed at Susan's place, her name cleared and the Obliviator had been written up. She had even picked a language for her evocation – Welsh – which made Lash giggle like a madwoman when Harry received his Hogwarts letter at the end of the month.

 _Dear Mr. Potter,_

 _Please note that the new school year will begin on September the first as usual. The Hogwarts Express will leave from King's Cross station, platform nine and three-quarters, at eleven o'clock._

 _Due to ongoing maintenance work at Hogwarts castle, for the duration of this school year Hogwarts classes will be held on campus at the former Caer y Bardd._

 _A list of books for next year is enclosed with your summer assignments._

 _Yours sincerely,_

 _Professor M. McGonagall_

 _Deputy Headmistress_

"Caer y Bardd?" Harry asked, looking up at Lash.

"Bardfort, in Welsh. Most likely situated on Bardsey Island… Ynnys Enlli," Lash translated. "A legendary burial ground for heroes… King Arthur was buried there, among others," She paused,checking her internal library. "Also the site of the College of the Bards four hundred years ago, a rival school to Hogwarts that failed under mysterious circumstances."

"And they're moving the Hogwarts classes _there_ for a year? Why not a regular school? One that doesn't have a mysterious history?" Harry asked with a huff.

"I suspect that would defeat the point of maintaining a boarding facility," Lash replied. "That being the erasure of non-magical socialisation and indoctrination in the ways of the wizarding world."

"I don't particularly want to go back," Harry admitted, quietly. "Will Caer y Bardd even have the same kind of library?"

"I do not know," Lash admitted. "But there is a good chance it will have a selection of the Hogwarts books. Madam Pince did note in her letter that she was boxing up a lot of the books."

"I suppose. Besides, I guess I should be there so we can keep an eye on Sally-Anne and the others at least."

"There is that," Lash smiled. "I'm glad to see you valuing their friendship."

"I could take or leave their world," Harry admitted, "but I think, especially after this summer, giving up on my friends would be almost as bad as giving up on magic."


	4. An Essay on Historical Revisionism

Disclaimer: Harry Potter is property of JK Rowling. The Dresden Files are property of Jim Butcher. Original story concept and books 1 and 2 belong to Silently Watches. For the events of those books, see his story A Deal with a Devil available on at s/11188292/1/Deal-with-a-Devil

* * *

 **Chapter 4: An Essay on Historical Revisionism**

"Witch burnings?" Lash asked, sardonically. "I don't even know where to begin."

With Harry's letter had, belatedly, come notice of his summer homework. With school letting out a full month early the previous year due to the evacuation, nobody had had time to set it before then. The Dursleys had gone to visit Vernon's sister, and so Harry was once more in Toulon.

"Is the great Lash stumped again?" Harry couldn't help but needle his fallen angel. She tended to take it rather personally when her knowledge of the world didn't quite match up to how _this_ reality operated.

"No, I just… Burning was in no way the most popular method of execution, even if you ignore the lengthy interrogations that were pursued before that stage. While the popular image is of a rabid mob dragging some poor woman out of her house and throwing her on a pyre, the witch hunts were generally much more methodical than that," Lash explained, shaking her head in exasperation.

"Hmm…" Harry looked at the page on Wendelin the Weird in _A History of Magic_ , thoughtfully.

"Most of the witches tried were actually men, for a start," Lash began. "And the interrogations would involve…" She paused, looking at her ward. "Well, you can read it on your own time. Suffice to say, very few genuines wizards would be able to cast any spells once they had been tried. Even those incredibly rare few found innocent of witchcraft were rarely in any position to return to work afterwards. There was no NHS to put them back together again afterwards, after all. Besides, most of those executed were hanged or crushed before being cremated."

"So really, an essay on the pointlessness of witch burnings…" Harry mused. Lash remained quiet to let him finish. "Is really just a way to prop up the wizarding sense of superiority?"

"Exactly," She nodded. "As there are plenty of other examples of why muggles are to be feared. The statue of secrecy was introduced right at the end of the witch hunts as well, which implies that it was a defensive measure… and one that was at least partially successful."

"I think I'm going to title my assignment ' _Witch Hunts in the Fourteenth Century Were Completely Pointless: A Discourse on Rewriting History_ '," He decided.

"I should probably tell you not to…" Lash hedged, then pouted at the sceptical look he gave her. "I do try to be a good influence," She huffed. "But honestly, I'm curious what your teacher will say to that… whoever they are."

"Whoever they are?" He blinked.

"Well, it's not going to be Binns, he can't leave Hogwarts."

"That's true. Hey, what do you reckon is the best material for storing energy up?" He asked, idly.

"Probably deuterium," she replied. "But things you can get access to, coal or graphite are probably your best bet. On the metaphysical side of things, you're looking at wand core materials or crystals… haematite perhaps. Why?"

"Just thinking about things," he replied. "Alright. Witch burnings. Let's get this done with," He put quill to paper and buried the answer to his question deep behind his mental walls, along with a few other choice pieces of theory he'd squirreled out of his guardian on energy storage.

Lash let him. She was rather curious where he was going with it, after all.

* * *

It was the last week of August when perhaps the most baffling event of the summer occurred. They were walking back towards the Veela enclave from the cinema in muggle Toulon when Aimée suddenly stopped and gasped, a look of horror slowly crossing her face. Harry looked around, reaching for his wand, initially thinking they were under attack when she suddenly started sniffling.

"Impure…" The veela whispered.

"Uh… Aimée…?" He looked back at her. Lash stirred from where she had been hiding in the back of his mind 'so as not to interrupt them', whatever that meant.

"I'm sorry!" Aimée suddenly wailed and hugged him. "We can't… with you... They would be impure… I have to…" And then she ran off in tears.

"... Lash?" Harry asked, a little helplessly, switching his gaze from his veela friend's retreating back to her as she manifested with a cocked eyebrow. "You're a girl, right?"

"No, I am an angel," She replied, amusedly. "We do not have genders as you consider them. That said, yes, my mind is closest to what a human would consider typically female."

"Right…" Harry nodded, not really listening. "Great, so, uh… what just happened?"

"My dear child, I do believe you just got dumped," Lash told him, voice full of false conciliation.

"But… we weren't even dating?" He mumbled, shellshocked.

"Bah," Lash sniggered, waving her hand in front of her face. "Details."

* * *

"This is the first time I've seen you so eager to go back to school." Amy's mother was grinning at the sight of her daughter rushing around to get everything ready so she could catch the boat over to the mainland.

"I'm just looking forward to seeing my friends again," She replied. "You know how much I miss them over the summer. Why can't we live on the mainland like _normal_ people?"

"You know why, Amy Pelling," her mother told her, sternly, making the teenager pout.

"Old superstitions… I haven't seen my friends in _weeks_. What if Susie got her claws into Mike while I wasn't there?"

"This is our family land and we'll live here until there are no Pellings left." Her mother folded her arms. "That's the speech I got when I married your father, and that's the speech you'll give your husband when you actually get up the courage to talk to the boy."

"Ugh, mum. I'm fifteen, we're not getting _married_." Amy rolled her eyes and slung her rucksack over her shoulder. "I'll see you later," She stood on tiptoes to kiss her mother on the cheek and ran out to clip the lights on her bike.

"And don't forget to practice your English!" her mother called after her in that language.

The sun was just starting to crest the horizon as Amy pedalled towards the harbour to catch the boat over to the mainland.


	5. Eleven O'clock to Penychain

Disclaimer: Harry Potter is property of JK Rowling. The Dresden Files are property of Jim Butcher. Original story concept and books 1 and 2 belong to Silently Watches. For the events of those books, see his story A Deal with a Devil available on at s/11188292/1/Deal-with-a-Devil

AN: Because I couldn't get the chapter to upload yesterday, and it was a short chapter anyway, have a bonus update!

* * *

 **Chapter 5: Eleven O'clock to Penychain**

The first of September was always chaotic, and this year was no different, although there was a nervous kind of energy underpinning the whole event that had been absent in previous years. Harry had initially put it down to the change in destination, although the presence of a few brown-coated wizards around the edges of the platform changed his mind on that.

"Aurors guarding the platform? Something is up," Lash agreed. "I'm sure Susan will know something, look," She pointed out where Susan Bones and Sally-Anne Perks were getting onto the train with the assistance of a woman who could only be Susan's aunt. With an absent nod of agreement, Harry took his trolley in that direction. He briefly got the feeling that Lash was amused at something again as the woman helped him move his trunk into the racks.

"Harry. It's good to see you again," Susan greeted him with a thankfully brief hug. "I just wanted to say thank you for looking out for Sally-Anne over the summer…" She flushed. "It's more than we deserved after last year," Her voice turned a little more guarded as her eyes slid to his left. "And hello, Miss Davis. I didn't know you were friends with Harry."

"I'm not." A female voice with an oddly familiar sarcastic twist replied as Harry turned to look. There, behind him, was one of the Slytherin girls from his year, a brunette girl who had done absolutely nothing to stand out other than sitting next to Malfoy at the welcoming feast. "But since Greengrass decided associating with a mere half-blood would get her put on the Heir's shit list, I figure the top of the shit list is better than the bottom," She nodded at Harry.

"That's right, you were that girl who was always doing homework," Harry remembered. "Well... " He glanced at the Hufflepuffs. "I don't mind you joining us if they don't."

Susan looked like she wanted to object, then she flushed and looked away. "We already made that mistake once. If you're not going to be all Dark and bitchy, you can sit with us."

"With that desperate invitation, how could I say no?" The Slytherin snorted. "I'm Tracey. Call me by it. I'm done being 'that homework girl'."

"I like her," Lash said. Privately, Harry thought that if Lash and Tracey were ever allowed to conspire, their collective wit could probably cut Albus Dumbledore down to size.

"So," Harry asked, once they were all sitting and situated and the train was on the move. "What's with the police presence?"

"Police?" Susan asked. "Oh, you mean the Aurors? It's because of Sirius Black of course," She paused, then frowned and continued at Harry's blank look. "You didn't hear..?"

"I spent most of the summer overseas," He replied. "Only got back to England this morning. Besides, you know I don't get Wizarding news."

"This was broadcast on muggle telly as well," Susan said. "Black… he's the one who betrayed your parents to you-know-who. He escaped from Azkaban over the summer, there's a huge manhunt going on," She sighed. "Aunty's really pushing for his recapture," She glanced around and lowered her voice. "The Minister even let the Dementors out to help search for him."

"Eugh, don't mention those things…" Tracey shuddered. "They already searched our house…" There was a haunted look in her bespectacled grey eyes. "If I never see another dementor again, it'll be too soon."

That put something of a damper on the conversation until Susan asked if Tracey had heard the new Weird Sisters album, which turned into a spirited, if good-natured, argument when the dark-haired girl professed a preference for the witch-fronted Midsummer Knights.

By the time the trolley came around, the group had formed a tentative friendship, although Harry couldn't quite help but feel a little caught on the outside. More because his companions were all girls than anything else. It was almost a relief when the door opened again a couple of minutes after the trolley had left, although the face that appeared was of uncertain welcome.

"Well, Potter, it seems you've managed to find yourself something of a following after all," Draco Malfoy drawled as he looked around. "Or is it more of a harem?"

"What do you want, Malfoy?" Susan asked, moving to shield Sally-Anne from view.

"Why," he began, voice oily, "I just wanted to see if Harry had some time for… mending bridges, after the end of last term."

"So I helped catch the Heir and now I'm useful?" Harry asked, arching an eyebrow in unconscious mimicry of his teacher.

"He'll think about it," Tracey said, interrupting them.

"This doesn't concern you, Davis." Malfoy looked down at the half-blood with a sneer. "Aren't you supposed to be finishing Greengrass' History of Magic essay right about now?" He made a little shooing motion with his fingers.

"Do we really have to start with this already?" Susan asked, and there was no sign of the excitable first-year who had deafened a carriage when she met _the_ Harry Potter back in first year. "Aren't you Snakes supposed to encourage ambition?"

"Watch it, Bones. Seems like being a speccy loser is contagious," Malfoy said with a sneer. "It's only a matter of time before your eyes start to go as well." He glanced dismissively at Sally-Anne, who was shaking slightly behind her, before looking back at Harry. "Don't go burning your bridges when olive branches are offered. There's a right kind of ambition and a wrong one." Warning delivered, he left with his book-ends in tow.

The four people left in the carriage looked at each other, slightly shaken in the aftermath of the exchange which had felt violent for all it was mere words. Somehow, Harry couldn't shake the feeling that he hadn't seen the end of this.

The weather continued to worsen as they headed west, until it was almost completely dark as they passed Aberdyfi, to the point where the lanterns came on up and down the train.

"Some storm," Harry murmured, watching as the rain started to come down in sheets, completely obscuring the view through the window. It was a shame; the sea was quite pretty. "Hang on…" He frowned as the train started to slow down.

"Maybe we're already there?" Tracey hazarded.

"No, we should still be a couple of hours off," Lash said, which Harry duly repeated.

"I checked the route in the station," He lied at the girls' curious looks.

"Hm…" Susan leaned over Sally-Anne to peer through the window after wiping off some of the condensation. "Ah, I think someone's coming aboard."

The lights went out suddenly, sending surprised squeaks and shrieks up and down the train – fortunately for their ears, Susan's not among them.

"Oh no…" Tracey whispered in the pitch darkness.

"What's wrong?" Harry asked quietly, although he could feel it as well. Cold, beyond that of an autumn rainstorm, sweeping up and down the train. Cold, and with it, fear so thick it was almost palpable. Tracey was quietly repeating some nonsense phrase under her breath that didn't quite sound like a spell, and before Harry knew it he had an armful of shivering Sally-Anne to contend with.

"Well, it is only natural that she take refuge with her saviour," Lash quipped, although even the angel's irreverent tone had an underlying tension. Compartment doors started to bang open in sequence. Harry freed one of his hands and focused his will. He had plenty of fear to fuel the spell with.

" _Arev_ ," He murmured, creating a tiny, uncertain marble of white light. " _Arev_." A little more fervently, and the ball grew, " _Arev!_ " He cast a third time, and the glow expanded until it lit the whole compartment, although only dimly. Just in time for the door to their compartment to bang open and reveal the spectre that was progressing down the train.

Pausing, as though surprised at the vehemence with which the door had opened, the cloaked figure was so tall its hood brushed the ceiling. Its face was completely in shadow, even with the light in Harry's hand being below it. When he saw the thing's hand, he thought that perhaps it was a good thing after all. It looked like a human hand, if a human hand had been lacerated, allowed to scab, and then left to soak in salt water for hours. Decayed and slimy-looking, it was the hand of a drowned torture victim… and then it was gone, withdrawn into the thing's cloak.

"I tried," Tracey's whispering was audible in the sudden, oppressive hush.. "I'm a good girl, father, I promise. I did my best. Please," She was curled up on her seat with her hands over her head… the dementor swooped closer to her in a motion so rapid that it almost seemed to be ghosting without crossing the intervening space. It reached out with that scabby hand, and just before it touched her, Tracey pitched over onto her side in a faint.

"H-hey! Leave her alone!" Harry yelled at it. The thing paused, as if it were only just noticing him, and then it was _there_ in front of him with that same unbelievable speed and its aura was so much worse, reaching into him with a long, rattling breath that cause ice to start to grow across his glasses. Sally-Anne stopped shaking suddenly as she joined Tracey in unconsciousness, and he could feel the same darkness encroaching…

"You. Will. Not. Have. Him," Lash was there, suddenly, impossibly between him and the dementor, golden hair glowing with an inner light that filled him with hope and wonder, holding a flaming scourge that gave off far more heat than it should have, the healed-over stumps of _wings_ on her back for the first time since he'd met her, and the dementor actually _paused_ …

"None of them is hiding Sirius Black under their cloaks." A new voice interrupted them. It belonged to a tired-sounding man wearing a battered brown leather duster, standing in the corridor with a handful of silver fire. In the half-light of the two spells, he appeared almost monochrome. The dementor turned to consider him, before slowly swinging its head back towards Harry and Lash… The man sighed. " _Expecto Patronum_ ," he muttered tiredly, and a cloud of fog, one clump somehow appearing full of teeth, chased the dementor out the window.

"Th… thank you, sir," Susan managed, her voice shaking slightly.

"That was very impressive," he said as he nodded to Susan to acknowledge her words, although he was speaking to Harry. "A wandless light spell that held up against a dementor."

"I, um…" Harry swallowed. "Fueled it with fear, sir. There seemed to be quite a lot of it to go around."

The man seemed to pause at that, before squinting at him. "I see. Mr. Potter, please remember that emotionally charged magic is a legal grey area and refrain from using it wherever possible." He reached into his pocket and retrieved, of all things, a small slab of chocolate. He gave it to Susan, who was closest. "When your friends wake up, share that out. It's one of the few things that can help fight off dementor influence. Please excuse me, I need to make sure the rest of the train are recovering as well." He closed the door and they could hear him going into the opposite compartment.

"... A legal grey area?" Harry and Lash asked simultaneously, equally as confused.

"Well, of course," Susan said, after a few moments, one hand pressing down over her heart as though to calm it. "Almost all spells that require emotional components are really powerful Dark Arts." As she was talking, the lights flared back into life and the train started moving again with the familiar thunk of brakes releasing. She tore open the chocolate and popped a piece into her mouth.

"Ah…" Harry nodded, weakly. "Can I have… a bit of that?" he asked. Lash had vanished while Susan was talking, but she'd looked incredibly pale and weak and the glowing hope that has suffused him with her presence had faded rapidly. Whatever she had done had plainly exhausted her.

"Sure," Susan passed him a square, before reluctantly putting it on the seat next to her. "So, what's with…?" She gestured at where Sally-Anne was still curled up in his arms, head resting on his shoulder.

"I guess it stirred up some really bad memories," he said, and gently moved her to the seat next to Tracey. "For both of them." He looked at the other Slytherin, wondering just what nightmares she had lived through on her own, before looking back to the redhead. "I know I nearly joined them." He did his best to keep the haunted look off his face, although from the Hufflepuffs' softening expressions he figured he'd failed somewhat. "Let's not ask them about it straight after they wake up, ok? There's no point making them feel worse about it."

The Badger nodded, and they sat in silence until Tracey stirred a few minute later.

"Are… are they gone…?" Tracey's voice was weak as she uncurled herself. She glared at the others as though challenging them to make something of her apparent weakness. Susan wordlessly offered her three pieces of the chocolate bar instead, and nodded to where Sally-Anne was still curled up on the seats next to her.

"The new Defence professor sent them off," Harry nodded.

"How d'you know he was the new Defence professor?" Tracey asked, squinting at him, before taking her glasses off to clean them with shaking hands, chocolate untouched in her lap.

"He wasn't smartly enough dressed to be a ministry official," Harry replied. "Eat the chocolate, trust me, it really does help."

Tracey stubbornly refused for a few moments, but finally she sighed and nibbled the corner of the strip of chocolate. Sally-Anne woke a few moments later, and for a while the trip was spent in somewhat awkward silence with nobody quite sure what to say. Eventually, Tracey pulled out her Defence book, and as if that were a cue, everyone pulled out something to study. It seemed like a better use of their time than fretting over Dementors.

The train carried on along the coast until it stopped in Penychain. The children were herded off the train and, surprisingly, into the usual carriages, their trunks being moved onto the carriage roofs by the teachers present – far more of them present than usual. Harry took the time to look up and down the line to check on the Thestrals, but they were just as emaciated as usual. Hagrid was waving the new students into the first two carriages. For a moment, Harry thought he saw a blonde figure petting one of the Thestrals, but it was almost impossible to pick them out through the continuing rain.

"Come on, Harry," Susan called him into a carriage. "You'll catch cold. You too, Trace."

"... Call me Trace again and I will turn your eyeballs inwards," Tracey grumped, but she climbed in with them anyway, and Harry saw that she was smiling, if only a tiny bit that she hid as soon as they were out of the rain.

The carriages took them overland, and then to everyone's surprise, over the water as well, crossing Bardsey Sound on an invisible road that took them straight towards the hill at the eastern end of the island. The wheels started to kick up water as the path descended, and as Harry leaned out of the window to see, he was certain that they were going to crash into the side of the hill right up until they passed through it, along with a horrible chill that reminded him powerfully of the Dementors. He thought he saw something flapping like a cloak in the darkness, but for long moments he could barely see anything apart from the carriage itself, and then they were through the barrier and descending towards a pretty stone compound nestled in the pit of a valley that went down as far as the hill they had entered went up. A new-looking Quidditch pitch sat off to the side of the compound near an old wooden hall that looked like some kind of hunting lodge and adjacent to a small copse of trees. The weather in the world above apparently didn't affect whatever underground realm they had entered, for the late afternoon sun still shone in the shimmering, blue-grey sky above them.

"Ah!" Sally-Anne gasped next to him. She was looking up as well. "Why does the sky not look like the sea?"

"It's because we're in the world below," Tracey said, her voice soft. "You're looking at the water table from beneath. Honestly, what were they thinking?"

"What do you mean?" Susan asked, surprised at not knowing something.

"These used to be goblin lands back before they were integrated into wizarding society. According to my father, it was a Davis that drove them out of wales. I honestly doubt it though."

"Why would you doubt it?" Harry asked, curiously.

"Do you have _any_ idea how many Davis or Davies families there are in this country?" Tracey snorted. "A good genealogist could connect us to any one of a hundred important historical figures without even trying despite the fact he's a Muggle. He's just bitter because nobody else accepts his theories on blood purity."

Much as Harry wanted to ask about that, there was suddenly no time as the carriages pulled up outside the courtyard and the upper-year students were directed into a long, low hall. Unlike at Hogwarts, the wooden beams supporting the pointed ceiling were barely five feet above the students' heads, and the grey stone walls were unclad and decorated only with plaques, some of which held swords, shields or spears while others showcased wands or musical instruments. The four long tables were there, however, and at the head of the hall the teachers were beginning to file into place. A large harp that practically shone with magic stood in the far corner, apparently playing itself.

"Well," a dry voice beside him startled him, and he realised that while his friends had taken their places at the Hufflepuff table, he still had a Tracey-shaped shadow. "Is it just me, or do the teachers look rather frazzled?"

"How do you keep doing that?" he asked instead, sulking a little at her continued ability to make him jump even though it was perfectly reasonable for her to be there.

"I'll teach you if you teach me how you made that fear-light on the train," she replied.

"Deal," he whispered, and then they were clapping politely to welcome the first new Slytherin to their table.

Tracey even managed to make the school song sound sarcastic.

"Before we can continue on to the feast," Dumbledore said, once the Weasley twins had finished their annual dirge, joined this year by a few people from every house and with far more sincerity than usual, "I have a few announcements to make. While for many of you, Hogwarts castle is a place of great joy, we understand that many of you remain affected by the tragic events at the end of last year. To that end, the redoubtable Madam Pomphrey is joined this year by Healer Tonks, who will be available to provide counselling sessions to anyone who believes they may benefit from them. Such sessions will be mandatory for all second and third year students, and will be noted on your time tables. In addition, I would like to invite you to bid a very warm welcome to three new members of staff. Firstly, Professor Lupin will be teaching Defence against the Dark Arts this year. Though it has earned him little fame, Professor Lupin has been working tirelessly as a dark creature hunter for the last ten years, and has much wisdom to share." He paused while the school clapped for the likeable, if shabby, man who had helped them recover from the Dementors' inspection. "Secondly, while I know that many of you will dearly regret not being taught by Professor Binns this year, he is sadly confined to the castle. Please give Professor Jones a warm welcome. She will also be taking over as astronomy teacher."

Professor Jones was a pink-cheeked young woman with a luxurious mane of thick, black hair who looked like she was only a few years out of Hogwarts herself. She was wearing a rather flattering black robe that was tucked in tightly by a wide, front-lacing belt around her belly. She was also well received, although the loudest applause came from some of the upper-year Gryffindor boys for reasons Harry couldn't quite fathom but amused Lash greatly.

Healer Tonks, sitting next to her, was a patrician-nosed beauty with kind eyes. Her light brown hair was tied back in a short tail at the nape of her neck and she wore the red robes of a healer. Even to the table, although without the white apron or cap Pomphrey favoured.

"And lastly, but by no means least, please welcome back Professor Hagrid, who will be taking over from Professor Kettleburn as our Care of Magical Creatures teacher. Professor Kettleburn has asked me to pass on his thanks – and his cautions – as he retires to spend more time with his remaining limbs." Dumbledore indicated the giant form at the end of the table, who smiled broadly as the students responded wildly to the announcement. Once again the Gryffindors led the charge, although they were followed closely in enthusiasm by the Hufflepuffs. Harry restrained himself to the level of the other Slytherins to avoid trouble, although he made sure to catch Hagrid's eye and give him a genuine smile.

Dumbledore raised his hand for quiet once more, and the students settled down slowly. "There are a few more announcements to make, and I am afraid none of them will be as enjoyable as this. Firstly, the tunnels beneath the compound are absolutely off limits, as are the caves that may or may not lead to Muggle Bardsey. There are strange and monstrous creatures in many of them, and there is a very slender chance of a teacher finding you should you run into trouble while exploring as they seem to form an impressive maze. Secondly, due to the ongoing crisis in the wider world, the valley's entrances and occasionally grounds will be patrolled by Dementors. This is a measure for your safety, but to ensure that safety, there are several rules that must be followed." He swept his gaze across the hall as though to impress upon them all the importance of his last three words. "Dementors cannot be fooled by tricks or disguises. It is not in their nature to be swayed by excuses or pleading. All students are to ensure that they maintain a thirty yard distance from any dementor they see at all times. You will not cast spells on them. You will not attempt to speak with them. You will not," and at this point he seemed to be focussing directly on a pair of red-headed Gryffindor twins, "attempt to dose them with potions or bribe them with confectionary." He paused to let the message sink in. "It is up to each and every one of you to ensure that no student runs afoul of the Dementors of Azkaban. If you see a Dementor out of place, report it immediately to the closest teacher or prefect. Thank you." He leaned forwards with a smile. "With that out of the way, tuck in."


	6. Endless Forms Most Beautiful

Disclaimer: Harry Potter is property of JK Rowling. The Dresden Files are property of Jim Butcher. Original story concept and books 1 and 2 belong to Silently Watches. For the events of those books, see his story A Deal with a Devil available at s/11188292/1/Deal-with-a-Devil

A/N: Wow. Silently Watches gave me an amazing Christmas present in directing everyone here. Thank you, everyone who is now following or has favourited this story. Don't be shy if you have questions – review or PM me!

Something that's come up a lot in PMs is Amy – I introduced her back in chapter 1, and she has an important part to play coming up around Halloween. Watch this space...

* * *

 **Endless Forms Most Beautiful**

Albus Dumbledore was in something of a quandary. He had watched Ginevra Weasley's memories of the fight against Harry Potter, and those of the other first-year girls who had attacked him. For a very long time, he had believed that the power the prophecy spoke of was the protection offered by Harry's mother's sacrifice, yet here were several examples of the boy using magic that he himself did not recognize, and there were very few things that Tom Riddle knew that Albus Dumbledore didn't. Not only were the incantations derived from Armenian – a little-known language from a country with such a small magical population that it did not have its own ministry – but his magic behaved strangely in all kinds of ways.

He had had his concerns when the boy was sorted into Slytherin, especially in light of the discovery that he had a mysterious teacher who went to great lengths to conceal her presence – a sure mark of a dark witch even if the apparent use of the Imperius curse weren't enough evidence – but those had been mostly laid to rest after the encounter with Quirrel at the end of the boy's first year. Then he had simply vanished for months at the end of his second, only reappearing to assist Miss Perks under mysterious circumstances and then vanish once more without passing border controls, going so far as to investigate the possibility of transferring to Beauxbatons, according to Dumbledore's contacts in the French ministry. And now Remus Lupin had reported that the boy was using emotional magic, which he knew was the fastest route to becoming a dark wizard if pursued without proper guidance as the negative emotions that were so much easier to harness became dominant.

Which left the question of who he should ask to provide said guidance. Both Severus and Remus had experience handling their own darker natures, but neither was an ideal choice due to various reasons. Likewise, Rubeus would be too soft on the boy, and Minerva too strict. Perhaps Filius-

No, he realised as his eyes fell upon the three new teachers' dossiers. He had already made arrangements to see to the students' mental health. The answer was quite literally staring him in the face.

The presence of the Dementors would only worsen the situation, although perhaps it could be turned into an advantage. If the boy was using emotion to power his magic already, then a demonstration of powerful magic powered by a positive emotion could go one of two ways. Exposing him the to Patronus charm would either drive him to study the volatile art all the more, or it might cement in his mind the importance of creating more happy memories. The best defence against slipping into the Dark, after all, was to ensure that you maintained a core of happiness derived from good friends and good company.

* * *

The compound, Harry discovered, was much bigger than it appeared. From afar, it looked as any small holding, with a hall, a stable, a barn, and the kitchens. If you followed the corners, though, you found more and more buildings. Some corners led to different buildings depending on the angle you walked down them. Trying to find his transfiguration class led him first through a farrier and then what looked like some kind of torture chamber with all its racks and wires.

"It's a luthier's workshop," Lash informed him, amused at his flight of fancy. "The hold is living up to its name as a bardic college, but there is something unsettling about it. Something very fey."

"Like the summer and winter courts? We haven't seen anything that directly matches your descriptions though."

"A question for Professor Lupin, perhaps. Dumbledore did say he was a specialist in creature hunting."

"That he did." He trailed off, ducking back against the wall as a patch of cold swept overhead. "How on earth we're meant to avoid going outside when we've got to learn a whole new external campus to learn I do not know. Those Dementors are awful."

"I'm not exactly enamored of them myself. We must do more research when we get the chance," Lash said with a slight air of frustration. "They're like Skavis but somehow _worse_."

"Ah, I recognise that cat," Harry noted as he saw a silver tabby jump down from the roof of what he _thought_ was probably the charms classroom. He blinked a moment later as the cat's fur flowed and shifted, expanding until Professor McGonagall stood there instead.

"Interesting. A true shapeshift. And an answer to how she gets around so easily," Lash murmured, thoughtfully.

"Why didn't my anklet work?" Harry asked, softly so that the teacher wouldn't notice as she went into her classroom.

"Because, Harry, it only allows you to see through lies," Lash murmured. "Perhaps you should ask her about it after class. For now, we are about to be late."

Transfiguration proved to be interesting indeed, as McGonagall launched straight into the very explanation Harry had been hoping for. After their horrendous first impressions, they had never seen quite eye to eye and the respect he'd won at the end of last year felt too raw to test now by asking for a pass to the restricted section. He did make a note to owl Madam Pince directly however.

After a quick lunch, he checked his timetable and saw that the only class remaining for the day was Care of Magical Creatures, for which they were apparently supposed to meet just outside something called 'the lodge'. Lash helpfully projected their incomplete map of the compound where he could see it, and a moment later he headed off to find a way to the long cabin set a few hundred meters outside the main wall.

Behind the lodge – a single-story wooden affair with a peaked roof, chimney, and many hooks apparently _grown_ out of the outside wall – was a series of stalls and kennels, although most of them were currently empty. Behind that rose a low copse, lush with undergrowth.

Seeing as there was no sign of Hagrid or any Dementors, Harry decided to explore the copse a bit, already having a suspicion of what he might find there. True enough, the thestrals swiftly made their presence known once he was a few metres into the trees, the one he had been looking after last year already nosing for the pears he'd slipped in his pocket in the hall.

"Manners," he admonished her with a chuckle, gently pushing her snout away to retrieve one of them himself and give it to her.

"That is a very fat thestral." A high, airy voice commented from behind him, startling both him and Lash. He looked back, only to see a blonde girl with large, silver eyes, a little younger than him. "I'm sorry. I didn't mean to make you jump," the girl added, drifting past him to pet his thestral's snout.

"That's, uh, quite alright," Harry replied, getting his equilibrium back as he noted that the girl was being respectful at least. He took a moment to look at the thestral – properly _look_ at her – and realised that from a certain point of view, the girl might be right. Unlike the rest of the herd, this one looked merely underfed. "It's nice to meet you, miss…?"

"Lovegood," she replied, not looking at him. The thestral was far more interesting. "You can call me Luna. Or whatever, really. Names are things other people give you. Did you know that some people think thestrals are the souls of the dead, come back to watch over their loved ones?"

"I hadn't heard that, no," He shook his head, moving up to rub the thestral's bony flank gently. "Most people apparently find them rather intimidating."

"They are rather scary looking," Luna agreed. "But they're nice. And having scary looking friends is very comforting when there are nightmares from beyond floating around."

"You mean the Dementors," Harry agreed, looking at her.

"They make me remember why thestrals show themselves to me," Luna admitted. "I would rather have Mummy back, but thestrals are nice too. What's her name? Your thestral."

"Well, she's not really _mine_ , she's one of the school herd, but I've been calling her Kenzie," Harry said with a slightly sheepish smile. A moment later, the thestrals lifted their heads and started to melt back into the forest. The sound of voices reached Harry and Luna a few moments after that.

"Must be time for my next class," Harry murmured. "I'll see you around, Luna," he gave her a small smile, before heading back down to the Lodge.

Hagrid was waiting outside the lodge with the rest of the Care class. Harry hadn't realised Malfoy was going to be here - he hardly seemed the sort to care for anything - but he, Pansy Parkinson and Vincent Crabbe were all loitering at the edge of the group.

They looked rather out of place among the sea of black-and-yellow ties. There were a few Gryffindors in the class as well, but the lone Ravenclaw in the class looked even more alone. She didn't seem too concerned by the fact though. Harry thought her name was Amanda, or Mandy, or something along those lines.

"Is tha' everyone?" Hagrid asked. He was wearing his moleskin overcoat and had his boarhound, Fang, at his heel. He was fidgeting slightly, eager to get started. "Great. Got a real excitin' lesson fer yeh." He waved for them to follow him, clicking at Fang, and led them around to the kennels behind the lodge. "Yeh've all got yeh textbooks?"

"Theoretically." Malfoy drawled, pulling his book out of his bag. It had an elegant silver-and-green tie wrapped around it, knotted tightly against the cover.

Harry blinked at it, and pulled his own textbook out to examine it. It was lying quiescent as it had since he'd told it off in the bookshop. Looking around, almost everyone had bound their books shut with belts, ties, or in Weasley's case spellotape.

Tracey Davis and the Ravenclaw – Mandy Brocklehurst, Lash provided – were the only other students who had managed to get their books under control without resorting to binding them.

"Right, well, open 'em up teh page thirty," Hagrid started, only to be interrupted by Weasley.

"How?" he asked.

"Eh?" said Hagrid.

"It bit me. How do we stop them attacking us?" Weasley demanded to know. "Honestly, Hagrid, you're great, but this wasn't your best plan."

"Oh, er." Hagrid floundered for a moment. "Yeh've got ter stroke 'em." He explained, taking Weasley's book and running a finger down its spine before ripping the tape off. The book fell open obediently to the right page.

"Oh, how silly we've all been!" Malfoy sneered. "We should have _stroked_ them. Why didn't we guess?"

"Leave off, Malfoy." Harry sighed. "I figured it out."

"I figured it was an entrance exam to the class." Brocklehurst smirked. "If you seriously can't figure out how to calm an irritable book, you're clearly not ready to learn Care of Magical Creatures."

Tracey smirked at Harry, although she was careful not to let the other Slytherins see.

"Right," Hagrid muttered. He looked back up a moment later. "Yeh've got yer books… now yeh just need yer Magical Creatures…" He turned away from the class to go and open one of the stalls, gently leading a strange creature out in front of the group. It had the body, hind legs and tail of a small horse, but the front legs, wings and head of what seemed to be a giant eagle, with a cruel, steel-coloured beak and large, brilliantly orange eyes. The talons on its front legs were half a foot long and deadly-looking. It had a thick leather collar around its neck, which was attached to a long chain by which Hagrid was leading it towards them.

The sight of him startled even Malfoy into silence.

"Hippogriff," Lash murmured. "The child of a griffin and a mare." She sounded oddly wistful. "A powerful symbol of love, for those creatures are mortal enemies."

"Meet Buckbeak!" Hagrid grinned at them. "E's a hippogriff. In't 'e beau'iful?"

He really was. His gleaming grey coat changed smoothly from feather to hair, and as though he knew he was being admired he spread his wings and lifted his head proudly, showing off the row of black feathers that ran across the middle of each wing. They matched the strip that ran from under his beak down beneath his barrel, making a cross shape when he reared onto his hind legs with his wings wide.

He fell back to all fours a moment later, turning his head to keep the whole class in sight of his forward-focused eyes.

"So," said Hagrid, rubbing his hands together. "If yeh wan' ter come a bit nearer…"

Most of the class seemed hesitant, although Brocklehurst and Weasley edged towards the front of the group. Harry joined them a moment later, admiring Buckbeak with his face turned slightly aside so as not to challenge him.

"Now, yeh want ter make eye contact. It's polite, see," Hagrid explained. "Then yeh bow without lowering yer eyes or blinkin' too much. 'E won' trust yeh if yeh blink too much."

Harry hid his wince and met the creature's eyes directly. It went against all of his instincts to do so, but if this was how to handle hippogriffs, Hagrid would know better than he. He bowed as deep as he could without breaking eye contact.

"Good, now wait a mo', an' if 'e bows back, yeh can approach an' touch 'im," said Hagrid. "If 'e don't, back off sharpish 'cause those talons hurt."

But the hippogriff was already bowing back, dipping his front legs. Harry smiled proudly and approached the last few steps, reaching up to stroke the hippogriff's neck feathers gently. Buckbeak nosed him curiously, then sneezed on his hair eliciting a laugh from the rest of the class.

"Eugh, thanks for that." Harry wiped his face on his sleeve and patted the hippogriff's beak.

"Alrigh'," Hagrid came forward. "We don' have the space fer you to go flyin' sadly, so back away an' give Mandy a turn. Everyone else form a line. Remember, hippogriffs are proud an' smart. They know when yeh don' respect 'em."

Harry backed away and let the Ravenclaw move in. She and Tracey both greeted the hippogriff successfully, but when Malfoy approached next he started to fidget suspiciously.

"Now, be careful there," Hagrid warned him. Malfoy bowed to the hippogriff, standing far closer than the other students had. Buckbeak stared him down.

"Well?" Malfoy demanded with a sneer. "Aren't you going to bow?". The arrogant superiority was dripping off him even more obnoxiously than usual.

"Back away." Hagrid warned softly. "Sharpish now."

Malfoy ignored him, straightening up and reaching towards the hippogriff as if to force him down. It happened in a flash of steely talons; Malfoy let out a high-pitched scream and fell back. Hagrid moved in rapidly, collaring the hippogriff and wrestling him back into his stall while Malfoy lay on the ground, curled up around his arm as blood stained the grass and his robes.

"Damn it," Harry muttered, bending over Malfoy. "Here, hold it shut," he told him, adjusting the boy's grip on his arm so he was putting pressure on it properly. He got an arm under his shoulder and looked around for the bookends. Goyle wasn't in this class, and Crabbe was looked like he was about to faint at the sight of all the blood.

"Harry, can yeh get him ter th'firmary?" Hagrid asked, his face almost as pale as Crabbe's.

"I'm dying!" Malfoy yelled, terrified. "I'm dying, look at me! It's killed me!"

"Right away," Harry nodded. "Parkinson, give me a hand here."

"Me?" She blinked, startled. "R-right!" To her credit, the pug-faced girl moved forward to support Malfoy's other side. Harry led the way to the infirmary, Parkinson opening the doors for them.

"Oh dear," Madam Pomfrey muttered, looking him over. "Hop up on the bed there," she ordered. Harry lowered Malfoy to sit down before stepping out the way.

"That is rather a nasty little cut," Pomphrey tutted. Harry peered at it incredulously, then looked away and covered his mouth as he realised that through the reds of blood and muscle he could see even the white of bone. From the way Malfoy's fingers were twisted and flopping, the nerves might be damaged as well. Harry was not a doctor, but just looking at that hand he could not help but worry that Malfoy might very well lose the use of it.

It was his own stupid fault for being an arrogant twit, but even so it was horrifying.

"Madam Pomphrey does not seem too concerned," Lash noted, appearing next to the nurse to examine the cut herself, "although normally I would suspect that you would be correct in thinking that the damage is critical. It is certainly beyond normal means to repair."

" _Concresenda_ ," Pomphrey muttered, waving her wand over the wound, and the blood stopped flowing out of the wound as though an invisible barrier were holding it back. " _Tergeo_ ," she held her wand on the wound and syphoned about two tablespoons of already-pooled blood out of the wound and dumped it into an empty phial that floated over from a rack on the wall at a wave of her free hand. A second, larger phial joined it full of brown oil. Madam Pomprey had the top unscrew itself and poured two drops of the brown fluid into the phial of blood, recapped the large jar and sent it back to the shelf.

She mixed the blood and the brown potion together, then applied them gently to the sides of the wound and pressed the edges together.

" _Ferula_ ," Pomphrey cast, binding the wound shut with conjured bandages. "There you go. You'll be right as rain by dinner. Don't take the bandages off until you go to bed, just in case."

"Wait. That's it?" Harry asked, wide-eyed. "Just a bit of potion and a pat on the back?"

"Of course," Madam Pomphrey gave him a strange look. "Oh, of course. I keep forgetting that you're Muggle-raised. Essence of dittany can heal almost any wound when applied properly. Mr. Malfoy will be perfectly fine and should regain full use of his hand in a few hours. Run along now, I'm sure you have better things to do than loiter in here."

Malfoy and Parkinson left without another word, although they already had their heads together to formulate some kind of scheme.

"Can I help you, Mr. Potter?" Madam Pomphrey asked when he didn't move.

"I was wondering actually," Harry said, hesitantly, "if you had any books on healing magic I could have a look at…"

"I have a few reference tomes," she said. "But they are rather advanced and not really suitable for young eyes. There should be a copy of Gerard's _Herball_ in the library. It's a good starting place."

"Thank you," Harry nodded. "I'll look into it."


	7. Boggarts and Bilinears

Disclaimer: Harry Potter is property of JK Rowling. The Dresden Files are property of Jim Butcher. Original story concept and books 1 and 2 belong to Silently Watches. For the events of those books, see his story A Deal with a Devil available on at s/11188292/1/Deal-with-a-Devil.

Sorry for the delay on this chapter - I've been preparing to go on a trip and forgot what Wednesday was.

* * *

 **Chapter 7: Boggarts and Bilinears**

Despite Pomphrey's words, Malfoy didn't turn up to dinner or breakfast, choosing to swagger into Potions halfway through the lesson the next morning like the wounded hero of some heroic battle. He was wearing a new splint on his arm and immediately went to sit down next to Parkinson, who began simpering over his wound as though she hadn't been there when Pomphrey told him he'd be absolutely fine. Harry decided they were probably up to something that he wanted no part of and turned back to his shrinking solution.

"The differences between the _Herball_ in my original world and this one are interesting," Lash said. She was reading her memory of it while he worked. "His references to how to mix magic with the medicine are so subtle it's not surprising they escaped the Statute of Secrecy."

He nodded, subtly, but he was mostly concentrating. The potions they had to brew this year were becoming more and more difficult, and while he could manage them thanks to all the experience he had cooking breakfast and dinner for the Dursleys back when he was younger, it took focus if he did not want to draw Snape's ire. Thankfully, even if he was a little distracted, he knew he did not make as tempting a target as—

"Orange, Longbottom," said Snape on the other side of the room, ladling some up and allowing it to splash back into the cauldron so that everyone could see. "Orange. Tell me, boy, does anything penetrate that thick skull of yours? Didn't you hear—"

Harry tuned the professor out as he continued to upbraid the Gryffindor so he could focus on the final steps of his own potion. He cleared his workspace while the acid green potion simmered then bottled it up for evaluation.

"Everyone gather round," said Snape as the class began to finish up. "And watch what happens to Longbottom's toad. If he has managed to produce a Shrinking Solution, it will shrink to a tadpole. If, as I don't doubt, he has done it wrong, his toad is likely to be poisoned."

Harry noted with some disgust that the majority of the Slytherins in the classroom were waiting with baited breath for the show, while the Gryffindors looked considerably worried. Nobody had any faith in Longbottom's ability to correctly brew the complicated potion.

Snape picked up the toad in his left hand, and dipped a small spoon into Longbottom's potion. He trickled a few drops down the toad's throat.

There was a moment of hushed silence, in which the toad gulped, then Trevor croaked, shuddering, and began to shrink. And shrink. And _shrink_ , until he vanished entirely.

Longbottom let out a wrenching sob and fled the room.

"Ten points from Gryffindor for leaving a class early," Snape drawled, and dusted his hands off. "The rest of you may leave," he added as he vanished Longbottom's potion and started collecting the potion samples.

* * *

Professor Lupin wasn't there when they arrived for Defence against the Dark Arts class after lunch. They were somewhat surprised to find the Gryffindors waiting there as well. They usually shared Defence with the Hufflepuffs.

The two houses watched each other warily from opposite sides of the room until Lupin came into the room at a jog and laid his battered briefcase on the teacher's desk. He was as shabby as ever, but he at least looked healthier than he had on the train, and his brown coat had been washed so that the lighter areas where auror's patches had once been attached were visible. It fit poorly, suggesting that either the coat hadn't originally been his or he had lost a significant amount of bulk since earning it.

"Good afternoon," he said. "Today we're lucky enough to have a chance for a practical lesson, so please take your wands and follow me. You can come back for your books at the end of the class."

The students looked at each other warily, then followed him out. Harry kept his magic pouch on his hip but otherwise left his bookbag with the others, taking just his holly wand in hand as they followed Lupin to the staff room. The last time they'd had a practical Defence class was when Lockhart had brought a pixie in and set it loose, so the class were understandably concerned.

The staff room was obviously a repurposed mess hall, with a hatch at the far end leading onto a small kitchen. Professor Snape was sitting near the fire with a cup of tea, going over a potions journal. He glanced up, irritably, then stood with a sigh.

"Leave the door open, Lupin. I've had about enough of watching Longbottom flail around for one day," He said, heading for the door. Longbottom cowered out of the way, face crumpling at the callous reminder, although he managed to avoid crying again.

"Actually, I was thinking Neville could help me with the first stage of the class," Lupin replied, smirking. "I am sure he will perform admirably."

Snape snorted, closing the staff room door behind him and sealing the class in.

"Right," said Professor Lupin, beckoning the class down to an old wardrobe in the far corner. As Lupin went to stand next to it, it gave a sudden wobble and banged off the wall.

"Nothing to worry about," said Professor Lupin calmly as a few people jumped backwards in alarm, Malfoy clutching at his splinted arm. "There's a boggart in there."

Most of the students seemed to feel that this was, in fact, something to worry about. Longbottom gave the Professor a look of pure terror and started shaking his head.

"Boggarts like dark, enclosed spaces," said Professor Lupin. "Wardrobes, the gasp beneath beds, the cupboards under sinks. I once met one that had lodged itself inside a grandfather clock. This one was here when we arrived, and I asked the Headmaster if I could keep it for teaching. So, who can tell me; what is a boggart?"

"It- it's a shape-shifter, sir." Lavender brown stammered. "It takes the form of whatever will scare you most."

"In the future, please raise your hand. Lavender, yes?"

"Yes, sir," she nodded.

"Lavender is, essentially, correct. However, she missed one small detail. The boggart is a psychic predator. It takes the form of what it _believes_ will scare us the most by reading our surface thoughts. This means that it can be fooled, and it gives us another advantage. Would anyone like to guess what that might be?"

Daphne Greengrass raised her hand, eager to show up the Gryffindor.

"Yes? Daphne, wasn't it?" Lupin asked.

"Yes, sir, Daphne Greengrass," the pureblood said, primly. "Because there's a whole crowd of us, and half of us are too stupid to get scared of things, it won't know what to turn into, right?"

The Slytherins sniggered at the not-so-subtle dig at Gryffindor bravery, especially given that Longbottom looked like he was about to faint.

"Something like that," Professor Lupin gave her an admonishing look. "Now, I mentioned that boggarts are predators. They consume fear. Laughter and amusement, on the other hand, are anathema to them; think of it like offering a small child Spinach instead of cake. It can be pretty difficult to call up laughter in the face of a boggart, so there's a useful little charm to trick the boggart into turning into what you're thinking of, instead of what you're scared of." He gestured with his wand, showing them the motion. "The incantation is _Riddikulus_."

"A creature akin to a phobophage is one thing," Lash murmured, "but a charm that can force it to change into something amusing is another thing entirely. Your world's magic never ceases to amaze me, Harry."

Harry smiled a little as he practised the charm, hearing the magic slosh slightly as it flowed. His mind wouldn't stop turning to consider what the boggart might turn into, however.

"Now, Neville, what would you say scares you most of all?" Professor Lupin asked.

"Professor Snape." Longbottom whispered. After that morning, nobody laughed, not even Parkinson or Greengrass. Professor Lupin looked thoughtful.

"Professor Snape… hmmm… Neville, I believe you live with your grandmother?"

"Er - yes," said Neville, nervously. "But I don't want it to turn into her, either."

"No, no, you misunderstand me," said Professor Lupin, now smiling. Maybe it was Harry's imagination, but he felt like there was something a little nasty in that smile. Like someone planning a mean-spirited prank. "I wonder, could you tell us what sort of clothes your grandmother usually wears?"

"Well," Neville looked startled. "Always the same hat, a tall one with a stuffed vulture on top. And a long dress… green, normally… and sometimes a fox-fur scarf."

"And a handbag?" Prompted Professor Lupin. Harry was getting a sinking feeling about where this was going.

"He cannot intend to humiliate his colleague in front of his entire House," Lash said, pleading.

"A big red one," said Longbottom.

"Right then," said Professor Lupin. "I want you to picture those clothes, very clearly, and concentrate on them while you cast the _Riddikulus_ charm. Alright?"

"No, just the third years,"Harry muttered back, earning himself a curious look from Tracey, which he shrugged off.

"Y-yes, sir," Longbottom replied, facing the wardrobe with his wand in his hand. He raised it as Lupin edged the rest of the class back to give the boggart a clear shot at him. The latch holding the wardrobe shut clicked open, and Professor Snape walked out of the wardrobe in a cloud of creeping mist.

" _Riddikulus_!" Longbottom cast, and sure enough there was Snape in a green dress with a vulture hat, holding a giant red handbag over one shoulder. The class started sniggering, even the Slytherins, as Snape scowled.

"Interesting tattoo," Lash murmured, highlighting the mark on Snape's forearm where it was bared by the dress. A snake crawling out of a skull's mouth.

The boggart stumbled at the laughter.

"Parvati, forward!" Professor Lupin ordered, gesturing for Longbottom to back away. The honey-skinned Gryffindor girl stepped forward with a resolute expression and _Crack!_ , the boggart turned into a bandage-wrapped mummy crawling with scarabs.

" _Riddikulus,_ " Patil called out, and the mummy tripped over its own bandages.

"Draco!"

Malfoy stepped forward, wand held in his 'good' hand. _Crack!_ The boggart turned into his father, Lucius, who said he regretted ever adopting a mudblood before his wizengamot robes turned into a tea towel, then - _Crack!_ \- it became a towering banshee who lost her voice, before - _Crack!_ \- it was a giant spider.

" _Riddikulus!_ " Ron Weasley roared and the spider's legs popped off and it started rolling towards Harry, who had hung towards the back of the class with Tracey quite deliberately. It rolled to a stop at her feet and suddenly grew into the form of a brown-haired man wearing a sharply pressed black suit. He raised the ten inch ash-wood wand in his hand.

"Impe-" he began to incant when Professor Lupin stepped forward.

"That is quite enough for now," Professor Lupin declared lazily, banishing the boggart into his briefcase with a flick of his wand and locking it. "He'll keep in there until the Ravenclaws' class," he told them with a wink. "I imagine I'll see more than a few burning books in that one."

His comment earned another round of chuckles. This was, Harry thought, the most camaraderie that he'd ever seen between the two rival houses. Even so, he couldn't help but be grateful that he had been allowed to avoid facing the boggart. He had a suspicion it would turn into a flickering horror-movie monster in a human suit.

"Professor Lupin, can I have a word?" he called after the Professor, hurrying out after him.

"You should go back to the classroom for your book bag, Harry," Lupin advised him. "You'll be late for your next class otherwise."

"I know, sir, thank you. I just wanted to warn you," He hesitated. "I mean… you didn't let me face the boggart for a reason, right? And you interrupted Tracey's."

"Yes," Lupin admitted. "I was rather concerned it would turn into Voldemort, and Tracey's fear is not something the other students should be confronted with at your age."

"One of the Hufflepuff girls has seen some… pretty horrific things," Harry told him carefully. "It might provoke similar risks if you let that thing see what Sally-Anne's afraid of."

"I will bear that in mind," Lupin nodded. "Thank you."

* * *

"So this is where you've been hiding." Harry smiled when he found her in the library after lunch on Friday. "How have your studies been coming?"

Sally-Anne smiled and pulled her wand out of her sleeve to show him. "I- I wanted to show you on the train, but Sue said- said that I should keep what happened quiet. I had to talk to Mr Ollivander for a long time before- before he could make me a new wand, because the binding kept interfering."

Harry and Lash bent to examine the wand. Much like Harry's it had a cleverly disguised silver ring fitted just above the grip.

"It doesn't look like there's anything unusual apart from our modifications," Lash said, going over the delicate rod. Harry echoed her aloud for Sally's benefit.

"No, that's… Um, we found a different way," She pulled back her sleeve to show them a silver band clamped tightly around her arm over the binding. It was decorated with a pattern of ivy and roses that almost managed to make it look like a piece of jewellery, although the lack of a clasp or hinge made it look more like a slave cuff. "The actual ogham script is on the inside."

"It's very pretty," Harry told her as he and Lash examined it. "It's enchanted to grow with you? How does it work?"

"Yes," Sally nodded when they were done. "It's… the binding is a bit- bit like a pipe. The script has to be complete for it to function or the magic going through- through it just leaks out chaotically. So… so the cuff finishes the ogham script, but, well, ah… in-inverted," She took her wand in hand and lit it in demonstration. "I- I think I'm actually a bit- bit more powerful than I was with my old wand. This one is larchwood and phoenix feather."

"So the Ollivander agreed with Lash?" Harry asked, unable to suppress his grin. "How did you get him to leave the attunement spell off?"

"I, um, didn't. He taught it to me, because… w-well, the script on my arm would still interfere with the normal way of doing it. So I'm supposed to cast it every night before bed to do it the slow way," Sally blushed slightly, looking down. "He wasn't… very happy about it, and he made-made me promise never to teach anyone else unless… unless I became a wandmaker and took- took an apprentice. But I like your method better."

"It looks like she's applied the ring correctly as well. An excellent effort all round, apprentice," Lash put in. "And you can tell her I said that."

"Lash says you did good," Harry repeated. "How's Divination?"

"Uninspiring," Sally-Anne admitted. "I'm thinking of switching to runes after all. It's- it's pretty obvious by now that divination isn't going to forewarn me in any useful manner."

"Is the teacher no good?" Harry asked, wondering if he should reconsider his plan to speak to Trelawny about his potential oneiromancy.

"It's… not exactly..? But she _isn't_ quite all there. And… hon-honestly it's depressing. She's teaching us to see bad omens in everything. I'm going to give her second class a go in case it was just to get people to pay attention, but…"

"It's not exactly going to help with your meds," Harry nodded in understanding. "Runes, though?" He made a face.

"I…I was thinking about what Ollivander said," She admitted. "About being a wandmaker. And… the idea of making things… when- when I was at your workshop over the summer, I really enjoyed making my shield rod, too. I know we have…" she glanced around, "the angelic script, but… having other languages to work in might help too. Bes-besides, nobody will hire a crafter who doesn't have an OWL in ancient runes. I might keep Divination for the e-easy OWL, but..."

"She has a point," Lash agreed. "Mortals are inordinately obsessed with making sure people have the right paperwork, rather than the right skills, to be qualified for a job."

"Lash agrees with you, again," Harry smiled a bit. "Mind if we study a bit? We've got Arithmancy in a half hour anyway, we could walk there together."

He wasn't sure why that made Sally-Anne blush, but it definitely amused Lash that it had. Although, perhaps, not as much his confusion did.

"S-sure," Sally-Anne agreed. "I'd like that. How was, um… your week?"

Harry groaned as he sat next to her, head in his hands. "Hagrid brought in Hippogriffs, and of course Malfoy was an idiot and got himself slashed up. I had to take him up to the hospital wing. And, ugh. I can't believe how… _cavalier_ they are about injuries here!" He kept his voice down carefully, aware that he was ranting a little. "Anywhere else and he's have lost the use of that hand for good. He's been milking it for all its worth, and the worst part? I think he was using the whole thing as some kind of test to see if I'd stick my neck out for Buckbeak," He rubbed at his forehead. "Then in potions yesterday, Snape fed one of the Gryffindor's familiars some of the potion he'd made and the thing _died._ Then after that the new Defence professor threw a Boggart at us!" His eyes sought hers as he said, plaintively. "Sally-Anne, I think the entire wizarding world might actually be _completely insane_."

"Well…" Sally-Anne swallowed. "If it's any consolation, as soon as you have an OWL certification, you can just leave it forever if you want. And they won't snap your wand or steal your memories." She glanced at her bangle, unable to hold the intensity of his gaze. "M-madam Bones explained it to me over the summer."

"Alright," He nodded, thoughtfully. "That is definitely something to keep in mind. On the subject, I think the old luthier's workshop might be perfect for continuing our lessons. I was thinking after Monday that maybe we could try working on becoming animagi? It would be nice to have a fallback if we lose all of our foci."

"That… that sounds like a very good idea," Sally-Anne agreed in a whisper. "Although I'll probably end up turning into a mouse or something."

"Sounds useful for escaping. Mice are excellent climbers. They're also very family oriented," Lash pointed out. Harry pointedly ignored her waggling eyebrows.

They spent a pleasant twenty minutes researching animagi and arranging an extracurricular study timetable before meeting up with Tracey outside the Arithmancy classroom. The wry brunette pushed her glasses up her nose to regard their ink-stained fingertips with a raised eyebrow, before shaking her head.

"You two are the swottiest lovebirds ever," she told them, making Sally-Anne squeak. "Come on, let's get in there."

The classroom was surprisingly bare, the walls masked by the multiple blackboards on wheels arranged around the edges. Some of them held equations, others were blank. Professor Vector was waiting by the desk at the front of the room with her arms folded inside the sleeves of her robe. A tall, middle-aged woman with a waist-length scraggle of black hair held back in a tail, she wore a knowledgeable smirk that went quite against her strict reputation.

"Good afternoon," She greeted them once the room was three-quarters full. "I am Professor Vector. Four of your classmates have already dropped this class. Two more will leave before the end of this lesson because they are intelligent enough to realise that the subject is beyond them. One of them will transfer to Divination where they will excel. A third will struggle with the material and drive themselves into the ground attempting to catch up and will eventually ask me what they are missing. At which point, their fortunes will turn around and they will invent a new theorem before graduating with top marks and going on to pursue mastery. Are there any questions before we begin?"

There was a moment of complete silence, before one of the two Gryffindor boys in the room hesitantly raised his hand.

"Yes, Mr. Longbottom?" Vector acknowledged him.

"How do you know, Professor? Are you a seer?" He asked, tremulously.

"No, I am not." Vector's smirk widened slightly. "I am an arithmancer. Arithmancy has, on occasion, been described as the key to spell creation, an exploration of the nature of the universe, and a form of divination. It is, in fact, _all_ of these things," She gestured to one of the boards. It was covered in dense chalk script that was almost illegibly small. "That board shows the arithmantic formula for your class's grade average over the last two years. By looking at it, I can derive many answers about your scholastic habits." She paused to let it sink in. " _For example!_ " she snapped, suddenly, making them all jump. "Miss Davis's results from first year taken individually prove that she is an able student, skilled in all subjects, but particularly skilled at History of Magic. _However_. When compared to Miss Greengrass's results, an interesting parity shows. Miss Davis. You will not _control_ your scores for this class. Do I make myself clear?"

"... Crystal, professor," Tracey replied, carefully not looking at the seething blonde two seats to her right. Last year, she would have been terrified of the fact that a professor had just broken the bond of patronage between Daphne and herself into fragments, but having already made the decision to rise on her own merits rather than begging her aunt to take her back it almost felt like the professor was _supporting_ that decision.

"Excellent." Vector clapped her hands, breaking the spell of words she had cast over the class and smiling. "Now that we have established a baseline expectation, turn your books to page one." She looked to Neville. "That's after page xiv, dear," she added.

* * *

Amy giggled into her hand as Mike Davies fumbled his bowl, sending the ball into the gutter with a clatter. He huffed at her and pouted, boyishly, which only increased his charm.

"You're such a muppet," she told him with a grin, catching his fingers as she traded places with him to grab her ball and line up her bowl while the machines reset.

"See you do better, birthday girl," he replied with a smirk, giving her fingers a little squeeze before plopping down in her seat. Day two of dating her crush was _definitely_ the best day of her life.


	8. The Murderous Red Cap

Disclaimer: Harry Potter is property of JK Rowling. The Dresden Files are property of Jim Butcher. Original story concept and books 1 and 2 belong to Silently Watches. For the events of those books, see his story A Deal with a Devil availableat s/11188292/1/Deal-with-a-Devil

* * *

 **Chapter 8: The Murderous Red Cap**

"Red caps, Harry!" Tracey seemed oddly excited the following Thursday. Everyone was starting to get used to the new campus, although the watery sky still weirded most of them out. "He's actually bringing red caps into the classroom!"

"What's so special about red caps?" Harry asked to prove that he was paying attention.

"They're only the ur-example of separation between truth and muggle folklore," The brunette told him with a sigh. "Come on, you read the textbook at least?"

"Of course, but I didn't realise it was that big a deal."

"It actually is rather interesting," Lash put in. "Muggle folklore here more or less agrees with the truth of my old world. They make up a not inconsiderable part of Winter's forces."

The defence classroom was a wide, open space with racks of weapons and shields around the walls and a packed earth floor covered in sand. As they entered the room, Harry took note of a covered cage set against one wall and had a momentary flashback to Lockhart's first class on Cornish Pixies. The boggart last week hadn't exactly gone _well_ , although that was more down to Longbottom than Lupin.

Lupin was waiting next to the cage, almost casually leaning against it. Once the majority of the class was present, he took attendance before standing straight and moving into the middle of the room.

"Alright. Who can tell me about red caps?" he asked, waiting for a moment for hands to rise. "Dean?"

"They're little goblins that wait in hiding and slit your throat so they can use the blood to dye their caps fresh, right?" The londoner asked, then flushed when the Slytherin boys and a couple of Gryffindor purebloods sniggered at him.

"Now, now," Lupin held up a hand to quell the students. "That is indeed an abbreviated version of the most common belief about red caps. Tracey, I can see that smug look. Would you care to enlighten us to your version of the redcap?"

"Er," Tracey had been caught off guard. She brushed off the glares from her housemates to nod. She knew the consequences for embarrassing the House. "They're a kind of fungus sprite, sir. They grow on murder victims."

"Very good. Five points to each of you," Lupin said with a smile. "Neville, can you tell me why we study red caps in Defence, instead of Herbology?"

"Um," Longbottom was even more on the spot than Tracey had been. "Well, that is… I don't know, sir."

"It's because they get up and walk off when fully grown, sir," Malfoy interrupted the teacher before he could say anything.

"Not quite," Lupin shook his head with a tired chuckle. "Red caps are highly toxic, capable of inflicting their victims with lethal septicaemia with the slightest scratch. In addition, they have occasionally been seen to have the ability to use tools, even wands, should they manage to disarm a wizard, and are in fact one of only three 3X dark creature to display tool use, the others being fairies and imps," He paused for a moment to let them process that. "So," He began again, "can anyone tell me why they are only classed as 3X creatures when they are so dangerous? It is not because of their size."

Theodore Nott put his hand down quickly. After a moment, Harry raised his carefully, thinking about Lash's lessons rather than the textbook.

"Is it," He glanced at her for reassurance, just a tiny flicker of his eyes, and didn't notice the way Lupin's own eyes narrowed slightly and followed his glance to empty space. "Is it because they're allergic to tin, sir?"

"It is," The professor sounded surprised that he had the right answer. "Like many of the so-called 'fair folk', red caps have a unique weakness to certain base metals. As a general rule, iron is the most effective ward against the little people. Even the muggles know about it, which led to the practices of hanging old horseshoes over doorways and sleeping with a nail under your pillow. Some creatures, however, have specific weakness to other metals that are far more severe than the aversion effect of iron. For red caps, their weakness is ordinary, common tin. Now, you'll note that I said base metals. Can anyone tell me what that means?"

"It means ordinary metals, sir," Tracey said without waiting to be called on. After a moment, she lazily raised her hand as an afterthought. "Which is why transfigured tin won't work, right?"

"Very good, although in the future please wait until I call upon you." Remus admonished her gently, then gave Weasley a sharp look when he started sniggering at her. "Ronald, perhaps you would like to go first for the demonstration part of this lesson? No? Very good," He crossed to the small stack of materials under a sheet and pulled it off, before handing out the foot-long tin rods it had been concealing. "In a moment, I will remove this sheet and you will have a chance to practice warding red caps with tin. Don't fear, you won't need to get within reach of them this time, although for homework, you will be writing a foot on strategies for evading the touch and bite of small, ground-bound creatures. Are you ready?"

He waited for everyone to nod before removing the sheet. Harry took a moment to examine the creatures in the cage – iron, he noted, rather than tin. The familiar visual split and twist of his anklet activating warned him that something was… off. The red caps were wasted-looking humanoids with wicked claws, wearing long, pointed hats that were more rusty brown than red. Iron chains were wrapped around their bodies, not impeding their movements, but clearly cutting into what little flesh they had on their bodies. Then his eyes refocused slightly and they were squat humanoid mushrooms with broad, red caps like fly agaric without the spots. Fungal gills hung like beards from their chins.

Flashes of runic script played across the chains on the under-form as the red caps shifted and moved, and while what Harry _heard_ was animal snarling, what he saw of the red caps' true mouths were definitely forming words.

"Oh, my. That one is rather inventive," Lash commented, pointing at the leftmost red cap. "I don't think that's physically possible even for a wizard. Still, this is very curious… they are _bound_ with iron. We should see if we can come back tonight and have words with them, Harry."

Harry just nodded his response as he stepped forward for his part in the practical class. Remus dismissed them once everyone had demonstrated their ability to ward off the red caps, although he called Harry to wait behind a moment.

"I'll see you in the library?" Tracey asked, pausing by the door.

"Ah-" Harry hesitated. "Actually, I have something I need to do after this. I'll see you at dinner though."

"Right…" Tracey narrowed her eyes suspiciously, before leaving.

"Got a date planned, Harry?" Lupin asked once they were alone, his eyes dancing with mischief, especially when Harry shuddered in response.

"I have to meet with Professor Snape actually, sir; regarding my summer homework," He replied, rather dreading the meeting to come.

"Very well. I won't hold you then, although I would like to talk to you at some point. Good luck with your essay," Lupin gave him a nod and turned to cover the red caps' cage.

Harry was fairly sure that someone was following him as he made his way down to Snape's office in the dungeons. He lost them using a secret passage, although it nearly made him late to the meeting. The last thing he needed was for Nott or someone like him to know he was getting in trouble with his head of house.

"Come in," Snape invited, waspishly, in response to his knock at the office door. He did not rise from behind his desk. "Do you know why you are here, Potter?"

"Professor Jones indicated to me that she was unhappy with my summer homework, sir. I can't think of anything else I've been involved in that might have been brought to your attention," Harry replied, standing awkwardly in front of the desk. There were no chairs besides the one Snape was sitting in.

"So you do have a brain," The professor scowled. For some reason, this did not seem to please him. "Yet somehow, you seem incapable of focusing on the simplest of tasks when left to self-directed study," He pushed the History essay across the table. "Read that to me, Potter, and explain just what relevance each point you make has to the subject matter set by Professor Binns," He paused, then just as Harry opened his mouth to begin, spoke again. "Oh. Since you are here anyway, your first session with Healer Tonks is on Saturday at ten o'clock."

Harry suppressed a sigh and began to talk through the assignment. It was made harder by how long it had been since he'd written it, but the real obstacle to his success was Lash's sly teasing at the difference between what he was saying, and what he really _wanted_ to say. Snape watched him the entire time, eyes seeming to bore into his skull every time he glanced up from his reading to explain the point. Suddenly, about five minutes in, and just as Lash provided a particularly scathing witticism comparing the oil used as an accelerant in witch cremations to the grease in Snape's hair, he growled in anger and rose from his chair, planting his hands firmly on the desk.

"Out!" He ordered, seeming to lose his temper. "I've heard enough. In the future, you will _stay on topic_ , Potter!" His wand hand snapped out, pointing at the door. Harry did not need to be told twice, and left before the Professor could change his mind.

"What the hell was that about?" He asked aloud once the door was shut.

"He was attempting to gain access to your mind," Lash told him, suddenly serious, "although to what end I am uncertain. Apparently he disliked the mental noise I generated to occlude your memories."

"He was trying to- why wasn't I pulled into my mindscape?" He frowned.

"I thought it would be better if he did not know we were capable of actively shutting him out," Lash explained. "It would be a difficult ability to justify."

"Wonderful. As if I didn't have enough to worry about this year between Sirius Black, classwork, teaching Sally-Anne and figuring out Tracey Davis."

"Don't forget the mystery of the red caps, becoming an animagus, and whatever this secret project of yours is," Lash added, dryly.

"I have no idea what you're talking about. Come on, let's head to the library, I wanted to look something up," He started in that direction, only to slow as someone stepped into his path.

"Talking to yourself, Potter?" Theodore Nott asked, slyly. "The pressure must be getting to you. I suppose I'd be going crazy too if I were hiding from a notorious mass murderer like a coward."

"What do you mean, Nott?" Harry asked, scowling at the coward comment.

"Well, if it were _me_ , I'd want revenge," Nott smirked. "Just something to think about, Potter. You and your audience," He sniggered, and strolled off.

"Well, I suppose it could be worse," Lash murmured. "He could have assumed you were in contact with a being from a higher plane."

"With great insanity comes great responsibility," Harry shot back, and the angel smiled.

* * *

Tracey hesitated, then screwed her courage to the sticking place and walked up to the little table in the library. Susan Bones, Lily Moon and Sally-Anne were there doing transfiguration homework.

"Can we help you?" Lily asked, suspiciously, as Tracey sat next to Sally-Anne.

"That is the general idea of studying together, yes," Tracey replied with a smirk then turned to the muggleborn next to her. "Sal, _please_ tell me you found a reference for the Snufflifors spell."

Sally-Anne nudged a book over to her, shyly.

"You are an absolute _life_ saver," Tracey groaned.

"Wasn't that essay due last week?" Susan asked with a frown.

"I need to hand it in next period," Tracey said, pulling out her quill and parchment. "And I left it in my textbook… which just got co-opted by one of my dorm mates."

"Your dorm mate stole your textbook?" Susan frowned.

"Of course not," Tracey rolled her eyes. "She just borrowed it without giving me a chance to say no."

"Th-that's awful…" Sally-Anne whispered. Tracey just shrugged, while Lily looked at Sally-Anne in shock at hearing her talk to someone outside their group.

* * *

"Please, come in." Healer Tonks was set up in a small room off the side of the compound's chapel. A large, unstained glass window made the room feel open and brighter than it should have. The walls were decorated with cream tapestries showing a variety of countryside scenes, while the floor was covered in layered sheepskins. A low table ran along one wall with an enchanted kettle and fixings for bovril, tea, and hot chocolate.

Two comfortable-looking chairs sat facing each other under the window with a low table between them. Tonks invited Harry to sit in one with a gesture as she went to the kettle and tapped it with her wand. "I generally find these chats proceed more easily when my guests have something to occupy their hands and mouth with. Would you like a drink?" She asked. Her voice was warm and undemanding.

"Er… tea, please, Healer Tonks," Harry replied, feeling self-conscious.

"Please, call my Andy." Tonks replied as she prepared two cups of tea. "You probably have some expectations about how these meetings are going to go?"

"I was expecting a couch," he admitted. Andy laughed gently and nodded.

"I hear that often from Muggle-raised students." She agreed, bringing the tea over on a tray and setting it on the table. Along with the teapot, the tray had a little pot of sugar, a small milk jug etched with preservation runes, and two mugs. One of them was plain white, while the other was slightly lumpy and had ' _Mama's Mug_ ' glazed onto the side in a messy, child's scrawl. Andy sat opposite him with her knees together, wrists crossed over them and leaning forwards slightly. She looked relaxed more than anything, and Harry could feel himself responding in kind. "Essentially, Harry, we are here for you to talk."

"About the basilisk," Harry said.

"About whatever you like," she corrected. "Whatever is bothering you. Everything you say will be completely confidential, although I will be reporting the overall outcomes of our meetings to the Headmaster. I will not pass along any specific information, on my oath as a Healer, and I am a trained Occlumens should you have concerns about your secrets being taken from me by force."

"Okay," Harry murmured. Experimentally, he reached forward to pour the tea. When Andy didn't reprimand him or try to take over, he gave her a questioning look.

"Dutch, please. No milk or sugar," she replied with a smile. He smiled back, relaxing further as he realised that he truly was in control of the meeting.

"I… spoke to someone over the summer," he said as he eased her mug over. "A friend. A," he hesitated over how to describe Lisette, "warrior. She helped me decompress after the stress of last year."

"That was very wise of you," Andy agreed. "Our world is generally rather backwards regarding mental health issues. Most would prefer to believe that they do not exist at all. When I decided to seek training as a Mind Healer, I needed to seek guidance among the Muggles. That you found someone who could help is commendable. So what concerns you the most?"

Harry paused. If he were totally honest, there could only be one answer, but it wasn't exactly directly related to dealing with last year's issues. Andy simply waited for him to choose his answer, sipping her tea.

"The Dementors," he admitted. "When they searched the train, two of my friends passed out, and I nearly joined them. It was like all of the bad memories from before," he stopped as he realised he'd been about to mention Lash to this complete stranger.

Andy gave him a few moments to decide whether to continue or not, before putting her mug down gently.

"Dementors are a blight upon this green earth," she told him quietly. "Occlumency, the art of controlling your mind to prevent mental attack, can provide a small measure of protection against their memory control. The more horrors you have seen, the less effective it is, and the more damaging to your mind it is to maintain."

"Then what _can_ I do?"

"I am not supposed to be teaching you magic," Andy replied, "because using magic to control one's own mind is ultimately a crutch. An unhealthy one at that. When the destructive influence is external, however, a case can be made for magical countermeasures." She smiled at him. "I think, Harry, that you have a good head on your shoulders. You seem to have worked through the issues that we are here to discuss on your own. If you find yourself in need of someone to talk to; to vent your anger, and fear, and frustration, I am here to listen of course, but if you desire it, I will teach you a charm to protect yourself against Dementors."

"I would like that," he replied, trying not to sound too eager.

"It is a very advanced piece of magic," she warned him. "Less than one in ten adult wizards can successfully cast the Patronus charm."

"I am more than willing to put the work in, Healer Tonks."

"Just Andy," she reminded him. "The first thing to do is to find a happy memory to provide the power for the charm. Over the next week, I'd like you to work on that. Go over your memories to find the happiest ones, and examine them to choose the best one. Consciously examining your memories will also help lay the groundwork for learning occlumency, which will help you maintain focus on your happy memory in the face of a real Dementor."

"Al- alright. Thank you." Harry nodded and sipped his tea. Andy let him go once his cup was empty, and he decided to go to the library to work on feeding Lash books for the rest of his morning.


	9. The Thinnest Wall

Disclaimer: Harry Potter is property of JK Rowling. The Dresden Files are property of Jim Butcher. Original story concept and books 1 and 2 belong to Silently Watches. For the events of those books, see his story A Deal with a Devil available on at  s/11188292/1/Deal-with-a-Devil

Sorry for the late update. I forgot to upload it!

* * *

 **Chapter 9: The Thinnest Wall**

The halls of Hogwarts echoed emptily on All Hallow's Morning as the dark-haired man padded through them on stolen boots. He should have left hours ago, he knew – he should have left as soon as he found out that the school was abandoned. There were no students here, no Harry, and no damn rats either.

Somehow, he could not muster the energy to care. This was where the best years of his life had taken place. He and his brothers in arms. Steadfast against the terrors of boredom and stress. Marauders, raiding the halls of knowledge for their own ends.

Damn it.

His last lead to their location, gone. No more. Evaporated, just like his trust in those he once thought he could rely on for anything. He turned to leave the castle.

"Oh, Peggy, I do hope they're keeping dry…" A familiar woman's voice mourned. "Terrible weather in the valleys this time of year, it always was…"

"Now, now, Lizzie." A second woman consoled the first. "I was hung in Bardsey for a while, remember? It's quite pleasant there, especially in the halls below. Your children will be just fine."

The man in black froze. There was something… he paused, as the two women continued their discussion. Why would two random mothers be..? "Wait…" He murmured, and crept along the corridor to where the two women's voices were coming from. There, the Fat Lady was visiting with her portrait friend from that little chamber off the great hall, apparently having arranged to meet in a painting of the Last Supper.

"Excuse me, ladies," The black-haired man said, strolling up to them with his most charming smile. "Did I hear you say that the students are in Bardsey this year? I'm afraid I've been… quite out of touch."

"Why, yes, dear," The Fat Lady told him. "After that horrible business with the Basilisk it's simply not safe here until the castle has been searched. Not for the living, anyway. They've reopened Caer y Bardd for the year. Quite exciting, if I do say so."

"Thank you, my lady," The man in black bowed to her, before walking away. Barely-suppressed madness shone in his eyes the moment he was away from the portraits, who were even now praising how nice he was and wondering at his identity.

Bardsey. The sound might be a problem… but it seemed that after running all the way from Surrey, he was going to…

"-otter!" a voice, whisper-harsh, snapped Harry awake, leaving him disoriented. "Damn it, Potter, wake up!"

He tried to force his eyes to focus on the girl speaking, only to realise that his glasses had fallen when he'd drifted off. Fumbling to put them on, he squinted at the inordinately pretty thirteen-year-old leaning over him.

"Greengrass. I didn't think you liked me _that_ much," He managed, throat dry. Oops. He hoped the book he'd been using as a pillow wasn't too damaged. The blonde scowled at him and stood, putting her hands on her hips. "What can I do for you?"

"You're going to help me with my Arithmancy homework," She told him, eyes flashing with barely suppressed fury. "It's the least you owe me for stealing my minion for your little badger club."

"If you want to drive your friends away by pretending they're tools, that's your prerogative," Harry told her, picking up the quill he'd dropped when he'd fallen asleep. "If you wish to study with us, we do arithmancy after the Tuesday class."

"I am not going to lower myself to studying with huffleduffers." Greengrass sniffed. "You are going to do this for me," She put the half-finished homework on question down on top of the creature case history he had been studying. "Or I will tell everyone about your crush on Professor Lupin – oh, did you think I hadn't noticed the way you keep mooning after him?" She smirked at his look of shock. Then, to her surprise, he started sniggering under his breath.

"Really?" He asked. "That's the word you're using? Greengrass, I don't have a crush on Lupin," He paused, considering carefully whether to continue. His 'turtle' strategy to avoid getting dragged into the turmoil of Slytherin politics was reliant on knowing enough about what was going on to use it to defend himself, but it felt absolutely awful to actually make use of it. "But if it's juicy gossip you're looking for, I happen to know that a certain blonde pureblood in this very library has been quietly studying household charms. Imagine the scandal if that got out – a scion of the sacred twenty-eight, doing house elf work. Are you having problems at home, Daphne?"

He watched as her eyes narrowed and her jaw clenched, and he fancied he could almost hear her growling in her barely-suppressed fury.

"So Malfoy is right. You're finally learning to play the game," She ground out.

"No, Greengrass," He sighed. "I refuse to play your stupid games. But come after me, or Tracey, or any of my friends… and I will not hesitate to destroy you," He relaxed the muscles around his eyes, forming his face into a perfectly neutral, emotionally dead mask. " _Draco dormiens nunquam titillandus_ , Greengrass," He flicked her homework back towards her with a twitch of his quill, and began going over the case histories he had been checking for Hagrid as though he were alone.

Greengrass fumbled the catch on her homework, having not expected it to go flying towards her when Harry didn't even have a wand in sight, and stalked off regally.

"Like a cat who has taken a spill, she shows the world that it was an intended outcome," Lash murmured. "A shame you will not consider making her a pawn… or perhaps a knight. Well handled, in any case."

"Thanks," Harry muttered. After a few moments, he sighed and leaned back, rubbing his eyes. "Was that another vision?" He asked. "It felt like one."

"It was indeed. I think that it is high time we went to speak to Professor Trelawney. Especially as both visions featured the same individual, and there has been only one person to leave Azkaban since your first vision."

"Sirius Black… the man against whom I should seek revenge," Harry murmured, thoughtfully. "We'll go by the owlery, I need to send a letter to Madam Pince first," He pulled out a slip of parchment, ink flowing quickly as he jotted down his request and the reason for it. A small detour later and he was climbing the steps to Trelawney's domain, a roundhouse well up the hill behind the compound.

"Come in." A soft voice called as he raised his hand to knock at the door.

"Parlor tricks," Lash murmured, indicating the translucent curtain covering the window beside it. "She can probably see everyone who walks up those stairs."

Harry nodded, then let himself in. "Professor… Trelawney?" He asked, hesitantly, as he walked into a cloud of incense so thick it was like inhaling brick dust.

"Yes… it is good to see you in the physical world at last," The voice was as misty as the veil of scented fog around its owner, a glittering woman with large glasses and explosively frizzy hair who was staring, Harry realised, over his shoulder at Lash.

"Er- right," He nodded, pushing the door gently closed. Trelawney gestured to one of the armchairs in the teaching space he had entered, and he sank into it awkwardly as she flopped bonelessly into another.

"Ask your question, Harry Potter… and friend," Trelawney said in a carrying whisper, unsettling him again.

"Ah, well, that is-" He stumbled over the words. Lash made a thoughtful noise from where she had perched on the arm of his chair. "I was hoping you could tell me about dream-seeing. Oneiromancy."

"I know," Trelawney smiled. "But that you know the proper name for it is most promising. Tell me about your visions, for that is one thing I cannot See."

"Well, the first one was over the summer, I saw – I mean, I dreamed about a man with black hair, in Azkaban. The guards were talking to his about last year… for some reason the prisoner… seemed upset that I might have been hurt."

"That is strange. And the second vision?" Trelawney asked, eyes focusing on his, intensely, leaning forwards and steepling her spindly fingers.

"Just now. I dozed off in the library and saw the same man, in Hogwarts this time. He was… looking for someone," He sighed. Trelawney closed her eyes and seemed to focus for a moment.

"A man with silver eyes. Yes," She murmured, then gasped softly. " _Sirius Black!_ " She nearly spat the words, opening her eyes once more. "He will come here, soon, and you will have to make a choice," She came forwards, off the chair, to grab his hand tightly. "Do not make the wrong one! Lives hang in the balance!" She insisted, fiercely. Then she relaxed, and stood. "Oneiromancy… oneiromancy…" She bustled over to the bookshelves around the walls, trailing her fingers across titles as Harry got his heart under control.

He could see why Sally-Anne said she wasn't all there. Trelawney floated from shelf to shelf in no apparent order until she found a slim tome with a green paper cover. Pulling it free, she moved to the desk and sat there, studying it for a moment as though she had forgotten Harry was still in the room.

"One of the rarest forms of the Sight," Her voice drifted over to him after a few moments. "But does he see now or then?" She looked up at him, eyes narrow behind her glasses. "Clairvoyant, not precognitive… yes. This is the one," She closed the book and straightened, returning to him and offering him the book. "I must rebalance myself. If you speak to Professor Snape about transferring to Divination, I will be able to teach you more, but for now this is all I can offer you."

"Thank you, Professor," Harry replied, standing and taking the book from her. "You have been a great help," He added, before letting himself out as she stared at him.

"Skilled," Lash murmured once they were outside and walking down the steps. "At chicanery at least."

"It seemed to me like she could see you," Harry admitted. "She even addressed you directly."

"Ah, but she has no doubt heard the rumour about your habit of talking to imaginary people," Lash noted. "Thanks to the Nott boy. And if you remember, where you perceive me does not change where I _am_ ," She tapped the base of his skull with one finger. "When Sally-Anne saw me with her Sight spell, she saw me as an aura interwoven with your own. As to her identification of the man in your visions, well. We did the same thing with less data. She likely knew him personally from school if my estimation of her age is correct."

"Hence the comment about his eyes," He nodded thoughtfully. "You've convinced me," He started to say something else, then frowned. "What's going on over there?"

A trio of Hufflepuffs were gathered in the lee of the luthier's workshop, the two boys crowding a girl against the wall, their stances aggressive. A moment later, a few steps closer, and he identified them as Ernie MacMillan and Justin Finch-Fletchley… and Sally-Anne. Harry started in their direction, anger flaring.

"Wait," Lash murmured, putting a hand on his shoulder. "Gather information before diving in," She reminded him. "She is not in physical danger."

"Fine," He muttered, and slowed down, circling to approach unseen.

"Come on, Perks, he's dangerous!" MacMillan was saying, his voice tightly controlled. "You have to give us _something_! Is he threatening you? Is that it?"

"N-no!" Sally-Anne shook her head. "Please… please just leave me alone."

"You heard what they said. Even in the wizarding world, talking to people nobody else can see is a bad sign." Justin's voice was softer, less angry, but no less insistent. "He's insane, Sally-Anne."

"You two really are a shining example of Huffleduffer loyalty and integrity." A new voice interrupted. "Seriously. I'd expect it of Gryffindors, bullying one of their own 'for their own good', but aren't you lot supposed to be better than that?"

"This has nothing to do with you, Davis," The venom in MacMillan's voice was something else entirely. "Piss off back to the snake pit."

"While it would be my _utmost_ pleasure to simply wash my hands of the both of you," Tracey drawled, "I'm afraid I can't allow you to continue," There was an exaggerated sliding sound, more like steel on steel than wood against leather. " _Petrificus," T_ here was a thud.

"Why you-" Justin sounded angrier now. Harry desperately wanted to move to assist – somehow – but Lash's grip on his shoulder encouraged more patience for whatever reason.

" _Fugia," D_ avis incanted, drolly, and a moment later there was a shriek and the sound of panicked running. "You alright, Sal?"

"I-I…" Sally-Anne stammered. "You… saved me..?"

"You're useful," Tracey replied, although Harry could hear the note of affection colouring the lie in her voice. "Come on, let's go find some proper 'Puffs to look after you. I have better things to do with my time."

"... Thanks, Tracey," Sally-Anne apparently heard the same thing Harry did. She sighed, softly. "B-better drowned than duffers… right?"

Tracey's dry laughter followed the two girls back into the main part of the compound. Harry looked up at Lash, to find his raised eyebrow met with her own.

"Will wonders never cease?" Lash murmured, a small smile playing about her lips.


	10. Mathilda of the Night

Disclaimer: Harry Potter is property of JK Rowling. The Dresden Files are property of Jim Butcher. Original story concept and books 1 and 2 belong to Silently Watches. For the events of those books, see his story A Deal with a Devil available on at s/11188292/1/Deal-with-a-Devil

* * *

 **Chapter 10: Mathilda of the Night**

Later that evening found Harry nowhere near the great hall where the majority of the students were celebrating. He had been on his way there when a flicker of gold had caught his eye vanishing around a corner, calling at him to investigate. He was already at the corner and looking for the source by the time Lash could advise him to be cautious.

At the far end of the gap between the potions lab and the unused alchemy atelier waited a girl a little older than him, with eyes the infinite grey of a winter's morning and wearing the black robes of an unsorted first year. Her knee-length curtain of blonde hair was the gold he had seen. Her outline blurred as the red caps had blurred, and beneath the glamour she was even more beautiful, with delicately pointed ears and luminous eyes, and wrapped in barbed chains. Anguish tore at his heart as the barbs tore at her flesh, and she raised a hand towards him, begging him for his help. The glamoured visage smirked at him and the entreating reach became a crooked finger, beckoned him onwards, before turning and walking off to the right.

"There is something unsettling here," Lash murmured. "I do believe we have found the fey at last."

"Perhaps she has answers for us," Harry murmured as he followed the girl. She led him on a merry chase through the compound, and then out of it towards the Lodge. There were no lights on there – Hagrid was presumably at the Halloween Feast – but as he rounded the corner to the kennels he pulled up short. The empty kennels were not empty, but populated by white-furred wolfhounds with blood-red ears and paws. The blonde was there, with her back to him. She was kneeling, head bowed, before something that looked like a woman.

"Cŵn Annwn," Lash said, identifying the dogs. "Hounds of the Wild Hunt. The faerie I do not recognise."

She was a chubby, friendly four and a half feet tall, but her bearing was regal for all that. A heavy grey cloak was pushed back from her shoulders, revealing a well-fleshed yet womanly body clad in a homely white and blue dress decorated with silver embroidery. Something about her reminded Harry of Father Christmas, strange as that was. Her dark eyes were fixed on the blonde alone, and her tuft of blue hair danced like a gaslight as she placed one long-fingered hand on the the blonde's head.

"I thank you, Child of Penelope, for this sacrifice," The woman-shaped creature murmured. Her voice was deep and throaty, weighed down by immeasurable pain and responsibility. The cloak lifted from her shoulders and spread, revealing itself to be the two pairs of wings of a wood carpet moth. She tipped her head back and let out a keening wail, then began to _grow_. It wasn't even or natural. She stretched upwards, up and up until she was a slender figure who would have had to look down to meet Hagrid's eyes, her darkening blue hair falling in waves down her back as her glowing wings sublimated into a howling winter's gale that left only the three of them in a frigid, peaceful eye. She reformed in a rippling wave from the top down, lightning dancing along her limbs as she became a slender, regal and cruel-faced beauty.

"Harry. Be _very_ careful," Lash said, quietly. "Do not accept food or drink. Do not make promises… and definitely do-" she fell silent.

The blonde had fallen onto her side, the glamour gone and just the human girl remaining, pale-skinned as though she had been caught in the snow for too long. She was breathing shallowly, at least. Harry looked from her back to the woman, and waited for her to speak.

"Brave sir knight," The faerie smiled coldly. "Be welcome and be at peace."

"Your hospitality is welcome, madam..?" Harry trailed off leadingly.

"The world has truly forgotten us," The woman-thing said with a sigh. "Sir Knight, I am the Queen of Air and Darkness. Maiden, mother, and crone. Here, I am known as Mallt-y-Nos, and I wish to tell you a story."

"This is rather… theatrical for merely telling a story, your highness," He pointed out. "It would only be polite to listen after you have gone to such efforts," The words tasted strange in his mouth, but he didn't need Lash's warning to know that he was currently dealing with Power.

"I would that I could tell you this story in its proper setting, but only on this night of Samhain can I appear, and then only in a place of power such as this," Mallt replied, scowling at one of the kennels, which broke into kindling that added itself to the swirling winds. "six score and five decades ago, a fool sort to bind the devil from the world with chains of sea and earth and sky."

"Salt, and… iron?" Harry guessed, wishing Lash hadn't chosen this moment to go silent. He remembered that salt was a traditional tool for creating binding circles, and with the iron chains the fey had been wrapped in it made sense.

"And blood, just so. You are knowledgeable, sir knight," Mallt inclined her head. "But with his Christian devil, he sealed away the natural guardians of the world. The Hunt that seeks the wicked, the Winter that culls the weak, and the Darkness that claims the day. Now, four hundred years after last mortals walked the Realms Below Ynys Enlli, I once again return to the world with a charge: Clever knight, subtle knife, free the fair folk of our chains."

"Why should I?" He asked, scowling at the idea of being ordered around, even if it was by a fairy queen. "I am not your knight, Queen Mallt, no matter how many times you say it."

"A bargain, then, mortal knight. Mortal hero. Should you free my people, we shall hunt with you until your rent and riddling fool and his minions are vanquished. Should you refrain… I shall take my leave. But the magic of Taliesins' Harp that yet snares your friends in the great hall shall not leave with me. It shall remain, and with it their hearts, until their bodies waste away and turn to dust, drained of their souls and powers to feed the eternal awdl."

Harry's blood ran cold. "When Caer y Bardd college failed four hundred years ago, it was you. You stole them away when your chosen knight refused your offer."

"Indeed I did," She agreed. "So what say you, sir knight? Do you think your power strong enough to banish me and me alone? Or will you accept our aid in turn for yours."

"I… accept," Harry ground out. "Though this I will remember, oh Queen of the wicked fey."

"Delightful," Mallt laughed, and gestured to the fallen blonde. "This Pelling girl will be your guide in this task. Treat her well, for as she gave up her wyrd to bring me to this meeting, now she sacrifices her humanity to become your partner," There was a great rushing sound, and the winter gale drew in tighter, tighter, destroying the kennels as it passed, the Cŵn Annwn swept up into it. The eye swept over Harry, but left him untouched as it formed a vortex above the fallen girl. Mallt vanished in the wall of wind, and Pelling twisted and shrank, her blonde hair washing through black as she grew dragonfly wings. By the time the rush of Winter power had completed its work a tiny, pale figure perhaps six inches tall lay among the shredded remains of the hogwarts robes. In the silence left in the wake of Mallt the Queen's departure, the soft groan as she woke and sat up was clearly audible. Delicate dragonfly wings extended from her shoulder blades as the tiny young woman rubbed at her aching head. Her eyes, when they opened, were as black as her hair, no white or iris breaking up the glossy void.

"It's… gone…" she said, forlornly. "What… was it..?"

"Harry? Harry!" Lash's voice broke through. She sounded genuinely scared.

"I hear you," He murmured, moving forward to kneel next to the little fey.

"Are you… Harry?" The faerie asked, looking up at him. "Yes, you are," She stood, looking up at him through narrowed eyes. "The Queen has given me everything I need to guide you to your task, but she has neglected to give me a name. It is a hole where… something is missing. Something she took from me to make me what I am. Who am I? What am I supposed to be, without a Name?"

"Oh, good. She blocked you from me somehow… She should _not_ have been able to do that." Lash murmured, relief mixed with worry in her voice. She turned her consideration the little faerie. "She must have been a scion." She mused. "A human with faerie blood… a changeling in the parlance of my old world. First the Queen took her faerie power to restore herself, then she took her humanity to turn her into this. It is no wonder that she feels a lacking in her heart. If she needs a name, you should give her one."

"If you need a name, I can give you one," Harry offered softly. "Would you like that?"

"Yes!" The little fey stood, paying her nakedness no heed. "If… if my queen did not see fit to grant me a name, she must have decided that it is your right to do so."

"My right?" Harry asked Lash. The fey frowned as he apparently turned his face away from her to mutter into his shoulder.

"Responsibility. A faerie's true Name is akin to a human's soul," the Angel explained. "It defines them, shapes them. Exemplifies them, even. This is no small task."

"You're supposed to guide me in this task and train me to complete it, right?" Harry asked the fey.

"Yes, sir Knight. That is what I exist for." The fey replied.

"What's the Welsh form of Lily?" Harry murmured, thoughtfully.

"Lili." Lash admitted with some amusement. "You feel responsible for her, don't you?" she added, softly.

Harry just nodded. She was there because the Queen had wanted to make a big production out of asking for his help without actually lowering herself to being nice. She didn't deserve to have her soul stripped away to feed a monster's ego.

"How do you like the sound of Lili?" He asked the little faerie. "A delicate little name, but it belonged to my mother, to one of the strongest women I've ever known of."

"Lili," she murmured to herself, then nodded. "I am _Lili_."

There was a sudden sense of release as something Harry couldn't quite identify clicked into place, then Lili smiled and gathered a handful of splinters and fabric from the ruin about them. Harry heard a faint sliding sound as the debris reshaped itself into a backless black dress with wooden fastenings. The little faerie pulled the simple dress on over her perfectly formed miniature body and lifted into the air on buzzing wings before settling on Harry's shoulder.

"Thank you, master Harry, for giving me your mother's name," Lili told him. "I will be worthy of it."

The cold began to draw in again, although the storm remained at peace. Harry looked around, past the thestrals' copse and the lodge, only to realise that Dementors were beginning to gather to investigate the disturbance.

"Outsiders," Lili hissed. "We must flee. We cannot stand against them as we are!"

Harry did not bother replying as he took off at a dead run towards the safety of the Compound.


	11. A Peaceful Halloween

Disclaimer: Harry Potter is property of JK Rowling. The Dresden Files are property of Jim Butcher. Original story concept and books 1 and 2 belong to Silently Watches. For the events of those books, see his story A Deal with a Devil available at s/11188292/1/Deal-with-a-Devil

* * *

 **Chapter 11: A Peaceful Halloween**

"Just in time," Tracey muttered to Harry under the applause as he slipped into his place at the Slytherin table. The enchanted harp had ceased to play as he entered the hall, releasing everyone from its spell none the wiser. "You know I had to hex a first year to keep your seat?"

"Sorry," He muttered back. It looked like everyone was completely unaware of the hour that had passed while they were under the harp's spell. "Something came up. I'll tell you later. I made a… friend."

"Congratulations, now you have to think of a cover story for Lili," Lash pointed out. "You could have kept her hidden."

"A friend? Who isn't also scurrying into the hall? What an interesting life you lead," Tracey murmured, wryly.

"So, what's up with you and Sally-Anne?" He asked, changing the subject. "I saw you leaving the scene of the crime together earlier."

Tracey's eyes widened fractionally in alarm and a hint of red came to her cheeks before she got herself under control. "Just networking. No minion more loyal than a Hufflepuff after all," She dismissed his question.

"Working on her daddy's breeding project no doubt," Nott snorted.

"Ugh. Just no," Tracey scowled.

"You mentioned something about that on the train..?" Harry asked, leadingly. Tracey scowled and attacked her food instead of answering.

"Mr. Davis," Nott put an emphasis on the title, "Is a muggle who thinks that half-bloods are the future of wizarding society."

"Hybrid vigor," Malfoy drawled. "He thinks wizards should be bred like dogs to produce the strongest bloodlines. He seems to be under the assumption that _muggles_ are more inventive and produce healthier offspring and that by diluting our noble history with their filth we'll somehow come off better for it."

"Pureblood magic with muggle vivre," Tracey muttered, stabbing a duck breast with her fork. "He's tried to engage me to every pureblood man in this hall at least once," She added with a flinch that Harry only noticed because Lash pointed it out.

"As if any decent wizard would want _her_ in their bloodline." Parkinson sneered, which did nothing for her pug-like face. "Half muggle. She's practically a mudblood herself."

"Even Dumbledore?" Harry asked Tracey, incredulously, ignoring Pansy's comment completely.

"So much filth... Her mother's side of the family have an excellent pedigree. But lets face it, _Morgana's_ bloodline wouldn't redeem a muggle husband." Greengrass agreed with Parkinson.

"Especially Albus _fucking_ Dumbledore," Tracey scowled, ignoring her former friend with equal aplomb.

"Oh, of course, I'd forgotten." Pansy smirked at Daphne, raising her voice slightly. "It must be so embarrassing to be related to a mudblood. She doesn't even get good enough grades to stand out"

"That's ridiculous," Harry shook his head. "He's over a hundred years old!"

"That is _not_ the point," Tracey scowled at him. "Although it is pretty gross. _Ugh_ ," She tossed her fork down on the table. "I've lost my appetite. Thanks a lot," She scowled at Harry and Nott, then put her elbows on the table and rested her chin on her folded hands to ignore them all.

"I suspect that he has very high expectations of his daughter," Lash commented, somehow fitting in the space between Tracey and Harry on the bench. "And from the flinching, takes his anger out on her when she or his plans fail to meet his expectations."

Harry nodded to her words, and stole a sprout from Tracey's plate in an attempt to startle her out of her sulk, sparking a playful squabble that earned them disgusted looks from the majority of their house mates. Mains were exchanged for desserts, and conversations began to die off. Harry couldn't help but hold his breath, waiting for catastrophe to strike. Perhaps the harp would start playing again and mesmerise the hall into waiting for their deaths… or something would explode, or perhaps the headless hunt would come rushing through the hall and claim its due.

He wasn't the only one paralysed by apprehension, he noticed. The other third years all seemed to be waiting for something to happen, and a few of the older students were wary as well. Even the first years were picking up on the tension.

Dumbledore stood, perhaps sensing that something needed to happen before anyone could relax, and suddenly all eyes were on him.

"As we come to the end of another Halloween feast, I would like to take a few minutes to remember those who were lost to us last year," He said, gravely. "On this night where the world beyond lies closest to us, I would like us please to take a minute to reflect on the sacrifices of those who have gone before, and let the memories of Angel Andrews, Robyn Becker, Lucian Bole, Gideon Crumb, Roger Davies, Marcus Flint, Monique Fulton, Yolanda Gentry, Harry Gilmore, Robert Hilliard, Herbert Houston, Angelina Johnson, Lonward Lancaster, Gilderoy Lockhart, Christine Mayer, Blake Michaels, Marissa Murray, Jenny Neal, Grant Norton, Rebecca Preston, Caroline Ramsey, Jason Rich, Aurora Sinistra, Kenneth Towler, and Percy Weasley watch over you tonight. Thank you," He lowered his head and folded his hands in respectful silence, and most of the hall followed suit. A few people sniffled in the silence, but quickly quieted themselves.

Harry found himself thinking of the battle and what he'd done to prepare and make sure it didn't happen again. His secret project, just a collection of notes bound together with string at the moment, hidden in a lockbox in his workshop-away-from-home. Training Sally-Anne in evocation. Lili's slight weight, hiding in his robes. He wasn't sure that helping the faeries was a good idea… but they hadn't left him with much choice.

"Thank you," Dumbledore murmured when a minute was up. "Please enjoy the rest of your evening," He dismissed the students, and turned to speak to Professor Snape. Harry rose from his seat, swiftly followed by Tracey, and was only a little surprised when Sally-Anne joined them at the door out of the hall.

"Sh-shall we go to the library?" Sally-Anne asked, quietly. "I don't- don't want to be alone right now, and Su-Susan has... family obligations. I usually spend it with H-Hannah, but..."

"That's fine," Harry murmured. "But we're going to the Luthiery."

"Are- are you sure?" Sally-Anne asked, glancing at Tracey.

"I'm sure," He nodded. "There's someone you both need to meet."

"Your mysterious new friend?" Tracey asked as they followed him around the switching junction to the workshop. "What's a luthiery?"

"N- _new_ friend?" Sally-Anne squeaked.

"Mhm," He replied, noncommittally as he took down the concealment ward he'd put on the workshop door and held it open for the girls.

"What the hell?" Tracey asked. "I've walked past here a dozen times and never found the entrance to this building."

"Come into my parlor," Harry smiled at her.

"I swear, Potter, if you're inviting me into some kind of weird three-way with the muggleborn here…" Tracey scowled, letting the threat trail off as she went through the door. Harry briefly wondered why that comment had made Sally-Anne blush quite so hotly, but dismissed it as probably not important as he followed the girls in and reset the ward.

He looked around, trying to see it as Tracey did. A stack of materials – mostly bits of tree – took up one corner. They'd pushed the wire racks up against the walls and fixed up one of the lathes and two of the workbenches. The lockbox with his project notes sat on one of them, along with a stack of crystals and a pot of ground pencil leads. The other held Sally-Anne's crucible, a little stack of notebooks and a neat pyramid of silver ingots. Other signs of their craft were stowed on scavenged bookshelves around the room, but the thing that Tracey's eyes had come to rest on was the copper ring tacked down in the middle of the dirt floor.

"Are… is…" Tracey stammered, before rounding on them. "Are you two doing _ritual magic_ in here?!" She demanded, glaring at them. Sally-Anne cringed, her right hand gripping her silver bangle for reassurance. Tracey narrowed her eyes, then stormed over to grab her hand, lifting it to examine the jewellery. "A slave ring?" she asked, furious. "What kind of sick game are you playing here, Potter?"

"Not that one," Harry replied, calmly. He turned to lean against the door. "But thank you for validating my decision to show you this. I was pretty sure after you defended Sally-Anne earlier, but..," He shrugged.

"T-tracey. Please," Sally-Anne whimpered. "You- you're hurting me."

"Sorry," Tracey couldn't let go of her fast enough. "Maybe you'd better start at the beginning."

"I started learning magic when I was about eight," Harry replied, shaking his shield bracelet out. "Nothing like we learn here. My teacher taught me about will, emotion and intent. About making foci and the wonders of the world. To someone who lived in fear of every strange thing and coincidence, it was a quite literal godsend. To know that there was a _reason_ for it all. That I was more than just a freak."

"Go on." Tracey folded her arms.

"The first thing she taught me was how to pick the lock on my cupboard so I could sneak out and steal something to eat," He replied, with slightly forced nonchalance. He didn't like remembering the time before Lash. "Eventually, I learned enough to make my uncle look the other way when I did something freakish and to make my aunt… not hate me. Or at least act like it. Things got better, then."

"A cupboard?" Tracey asked, swallowing away the dryness in her mouth. "Starvation? You confounded them?"

"They're muggles," Harry said, shortly. "I messed it up. Nothing so neat as a confundus charm. Psychomancy," He took his glasses off to clean them. Any excuse not to watch the suppressed emotions chasing themselves across Tracey's face. "They're… not important. I eventually found my way to Diagon Alley…"

"Harry, are you sure Sally-Anne wants to share that?" Lash asked, cutting him off. He glanced at her, then slid his glasses back on and looked at Sally-Anne, the question naked in his eyes.

"He s-saved me," Sally-Anne took over by way of an answer. She shuffled over to her workstation and took a newspaper clipping from where it was pinned to the shelf behind it. It was an article from the Prophet about some south-american chaeris kidnapping muggle children and how the obliviators had sorted it out.

"... So they took you with the muggles, but you two escaped?" Tracey asked, glancing between them.

"Not muggles," Harry shook his head. "Muggleborns. Ignorant, innocent, and magical. The obliviators missed us. Dean and the others were… luckier."

"Luckier? For being obliviated?" Tracey asked, sceptically.

"I- I still have nightmares," Sally-Anne whispered, rubbing her bracelet. "They had me for… several days before they picked up Harry and he broke us free. The obliviators were the first normal wizards I ever saw and I didn't know the difference between a stunner and a killing curse," Her shoulders began to shake. Tracey immediately pulled her into a hug.

"And these chaeris put that thing on you?" She asked.

"No, that… that was me," Sally-Anne told her, voice muffled by the taller girl's shoulder. "Because of what happened last year. It allows me to use magic after… after an obliviator tried to take it away."

"Wait… The Thorpe case? That was you?" Tracey asked, releasing her and stepping back to look down at her.

"Y-yes," Sally-Anne nodded, hesitantly. "How do you..?"

"My mother is a secretary for Ministerial Internal Affairs," She replied. "The day she filed your case was one of the few times I've seen her get as drunk as dad," She let go of Sally-Anne's arms to rub at her own, wincing slightly at the memory. "Where did you end up?"

"Well…" Sally-Anne looked down. "I'm staying with Susan and her aunt, since Professor Sprout can't take me on," She gave Tracey a shy smile. "She's… nice, but kind of scary."

"Head of the DMLE," Tracey nodded with a small, somewhat distant smile. "A real old battle-axe…" She trailed off, then shook her head. "Right. Enough talking about awful things. Who's this friend you wanted us to meet?" She asked Harry. He shrugged rather than answering, and opened the neck of his robe to let Lili out.

"Bloody hell, that's a big fairy," Tracey gaped slightly at the hovering creature.

"My name is not for your ears, mortal," Lili replied with a sniff, and made a show of straightening her robes. "But you may called me Lac. And you would do well to show respect or I will render the flesh from your bones!"

"Now, now, Lac," Harry murmured, scooping the little woman onto his shoulder. "These are Tracey and Sally-Anne. They are two of my closest friends," He ignored the way Tracey's eyebrow quirked up at the declaration.

Lac squinted at the two girls, then huffed and folded her arms, kicking her bare heels out to sit down. "Oh, very well, then."

"S-so… It's, uh, nice to meet you, miss Lac," Sally-Anne said, uncertainly.

"The pleasure is all yours, mortal," Lac sniffed. "Do you intend to turn these two to your task, sir knight?" She asked Harry.

"I'm not a knight," Harry replied with a scowl.

"A task, Harry?" Tracey asked, putting her hands on her hips and lifting an eyebrow.

"Yeah…" He shifted, uncomfortably and refused to meet their eyes. "I may have been blackmailed into hunting down and breaking the anchor for an ancient binding magic…" His voice dropped to a mumble, "to free the fair folk."

"Is- is that really a good idea?" Sally-Anne asked, swallowing.

"Did you grow up with the original fairy tales or the modern happy versions?" Tracey asked.

"Neither," Harry shrugged a little helplessly.

"Both," Sally-Anne whispered. "After the…" she stalled.

"I refer to it as 'what happened on the Demeter' when I have to remember it," Harry helped.

"After the Demeter," Sally-Anne nodded, "I did a lot of research into folklore. Things that steal your memories, or shapeshift, and so on. Faerie stories are mostly… warnings."

"The fey serve an important purpose in the world," Harry explained, his voice falling into an even, lyrical rhythm as he relayed Lash's words. "But they are not good or evil, and they care little for humans. We aren't part of the big picture to them… more an entertaining side act," He closed his eyes. "I don't think it was a good idea. But it was that or let everyone in the Hall die."

"... Thanks for not being a Gryffindor, Harry," Tracey said after a moment.

"You're welcome," He smiled back, sheepishly.

"A Gryffindor?" Lili asked, confused. Harry explained the Hogwarts House System to her, eliciting a shrug. "Oh. Yeah. Gryffindors sound stupid."

"I wouldn't know," Harry admitted. "They refuse to speak to us snakes. Apparently we're all evil."

"Pah. Evil," Lili waved her hand. "Strange human concept. So what happens now?"

"I'll add researching the binding to my list," Harry said. "For now, there was something else… and since you're here, I may as well offer you the chance to do it," He added to Tracey.

"It came?" Sally-Anne asked, perking up.

"What are you two up to now?" Tracey asked, suspiciously.

"It came," Harry nodded, pulling a small packet of greaseproof paper tied with string out of his magic bag. "Six mandrake leaves. How are your sticking charms?"

"Mandrake…" Tracey trailed off. "No way. You're going to… and you're..?"

"The animagus potion," Sally-Anne whispered.

"You're third years. And it's illegal," Tracey pointed out.

"Professor McGonagall taught us how to do it on the first day of term," Harry reminded her.

"That class was designed to discourage us from trying," Tracey argued.

"Well, if you're not interested…" Harry shrugged as he unwrapped the parcel on his workbench and handed Sally-Anne one of the leaves.

"Give me one of those," Tracey muttered, joining them. "What do I do with it?"

"Tonight, at the height of the full moon, just after half one. Put it under your tongue and attach it with a semi-permanent sticking charm. You can't swallow it or take it out or you'll have to start again," Harry explained. "Not until the next full moon. Here, the instructions…" He pulled a roll of parchment out of the desk and showed her the instructions he'd copied down from Lash's memory of their first lesson.

"... We'll need to get out to the surface for the next part," Tracey noted. "Do you have a plan for getting past the Dementors?"

"I do," Harry agreed. He pulled out his holly wand and began drawing circles with the tip. " _Expecto Patronum_ ," He incanted, producing a thin white mist accompanied by a slight feeling of elation.

"A cheering charm?" Tracey squinted.

"The Patronus charm. When I've perfected it, it'll produce a guardian that will ward off the Dementors. Healer Tonks is teaching me." He explained. "It only works if you power it with happiness."

"Or perhaps alternate emotions will produce different charms," Lash murmured, although Harry didn't bother repeating it, especially with Tracey not knowing about her.

" _Expecto Patronum_ ," Tracey murmured, closing her eyes and focussing as she drew circles. " _Expecto Patronum_."

"I started learning on the second week of term and I've only just got the mist," Harry said. "And I'm… experienced at emotional magic. Don't worry if you don't get it straight away. Especially if you don't have any especially happy memories."

"Making happy memories just became my number one project," Tracey said, quietly. "I never want to feel that again," She looked at him, opening her eyes to give him a piercing look. "I want in. Whatever you're working on. Whatever's going on with your invisible friend and your faeries and you emotional fucking magic that doesn't follow the rules the rest of us have to live by. Whatever it takes. Teach me."

"Are you sure?" He asked, taken aback. "Evocation isn't… you'll lose a lot of power at first. You'll need a new wand. You'll need to let me into your head, and swear to never reveal some things."

"You conjured light without a wand that stood up against Dementors," Tracey replied. "You're already teaching Sally-Anne."

"You'll have to learn a new language," He countered. "You… you'll have to unlearn a lot. This isn't something to just jump into. And if you keep using the wand the Ollivander sold you, you'll never have enough power to make full use of the magic..."

"I'd need a new wand?" Tracey asked, pulling out hers and holding it.

"Yes. One that you will have to attune yourself," Harry swallowed, watching as Tracey examined her wand.

"Ash and dragon heartstring," She said, quietly. "Ten inches. Rather springy. Good for transfiguration and lightning charms. A sportsman's wand," She recited. "A stubborn but versatile wand for someone who never gives up, they just find a better angle of attack before trying again. A symbol of who I am. As a witch. As a half-blood," She took the wand in both hands and pressed her thumbs against the middle of the shaft and looked at Harry. "You say I'll need a new one to learn your magic?"

"Effectively," He replied, solemnly. "The Ollivander's wands use a charm that forcibly attunes your magic to them so you don't have to worry about most of the little details of spellcasting. But that means it's syphoning off a lot of your emotional energy, which you need to practice evocation. Tracey, you've had that wand for nearly three years now. My magic isn't stronger. There are other ways to learn to cast wandlessly. Are you… are you absolutely sure about this?"

"Can you teach me? How to cast wandlessly without breaking this one?" Tracey asked.

Harry froze in indecision. To both their surprises, Sally-Anne stepped forward and put her hand over the middle of Tracey's wand, holding it gently across her thumbs. "We- we can try, Tracey," She said, softly. "Finding a- a better angle of attack. Right?" She gave her a shy smile.

"... Right," Tracey murmured, relaxing. She looked away. "Alright," She repeated, after a few moments. "Where do we begin?"


	12. Goblin Silver

Disclaimer: Harry Potter is property of JK Rowling. The Dresden Files are property of Jim Butcher. Original story concept and books 1 and 2 belong to Silently Watches. For the events of those books, see his story A Deal with a Devil available on at s/11188292/1/Deal-with-a-Devil

* * *

 **Chapter 12: Goblin Silver**

Lili watched as Sally-Anne worked at her bench the next morning. Despite the November chill, the workshop was uncomfortably hot. The muggleborn witch's crucible was putting out far more heat than the little fey had thought possible for a mortal to produce unaided. On the other side of the room, Harry and Tracey were sat staring into each others' eyes as they attempted to unshackle the girl's magic from her wand.

It didn't ache so much, now that she had a name, but Lili couldn't help but be aware of the hole where her soul used to be. She wondered if she should resent Harry for it, but found herself incapable of doing so. He had given her everything she had, and for all it rankled part of her to be bound to the service of a mortal, the greater part of her loved him as she faintly remembered loving her human father.

"What exactly are you doing?" Lili asked, swooping down to land at the other end of Sally-Anne's workbench.

"I, er," Sally-Anne blinked. "I'm attempting to make goblin silver," She admitted, quietly, most of her attention still focused on the crucible between her cupped hands. "I found a tablet in the library here…"

"A goblin stone tablet," Lili blinked at her. "Written, I assume, in goblintongue."

"Yes. Well… Gobbledegook."

"Goblintongue," Lili insisted. "So you translated it and are happy enough with your translation to attempt to replicate one of the closest guarded secrets of an entire race."

"Yes." A bead of sweat rolled down Sally-Anne's brow as her hands started to quiver. " _Arian yn dod haearn. Cymerwch mewn Nerth. Gwrthod Gwendid," S_ he chanted. " _Arian yn dod haearn! Heaern yn dod Dur!_ "

There was a sharp sound as the left lens of her glasses cracked across the middle. The heat vanished, as though sucked into the crucible in a gust of icy wind, and then the girl fell to her knees, supporting herself on the edge of the table as she took deep, heaving breaths. Harry and Tracey were there in a trice, putting their hands on her shoulders to support her.

" _Occulum reparo_ ," Tracey muttered, tapping the broken spectacles and peering at her friend. She winced at the small amount of blood trickling down the side of Sally-Anne's face. "Are you alright, Sal?"

"Ff…" Sally-Anne tried. "Fine," She managed on the second try. "I'm f-fine. It just stings a little and I feel like I just sprinted five hundred metres. I don't think I can do any more magic today either. But…"

"You did it?" Harry asked, hopefully.

"That remains to be seen," She swallowed. "We have to leave the crucible to cool at its own rate over night. Then tomorrow evening we can… test it to see if it worked."

"I don't know whether to be impressed or appalled," Lili shook her head.

"Impressed," Harry murmured. "Come on, Sally-Anne. It's probably best if you just lie down for now," He knelt to get his arm under her shoulders and helped her over to the pile of cushions he and Tracey had been kneeling on. Lili moved to Tracey's shoulder as they followed, peering down at the blonde.

"I'm going to ask Madam Pomphrey about treating magical exhaustion if this is the kind of thing you two do on a regular basis," Tracey decided.

"She'll want to know why and who," Harry replied. "I did ask her about it last year... She told me that I should always get a teacher and that she refused to encourage people to stupidity."

"Well, I'll have to be a little more persuasive," Tracey smirked. "Oh," she simpered, "Madam Pomphrey, please… one of my friends is in trouble, but she's under a vow not to tell anyone… she won't stop working herself into exhaustion. I just want to help her…"

Sally-Anne giggled softly at her.

"N-no, I couldn't get her into trouble like that... " Tracey continued, with all apparent sincerity, until Harry joined in the laughing and Lili fell off her shoulder with the effort of holding the giggles in.

"I'm a terrible Slytherin," Harry said, quietly, once they'd calmed down.

"What makes you say that?" Sally-Anne wondered, still laying back on the cushions.

"That," He waved a hand at Tracey vaguely. "I'm useless at manipulating people. I had to resort to threats to get Greengrass to back off over doing her homework for her."

"What on earth did you threaten her with?" Tracey asked. "If it's any consolation, for all my manipulative skills, I've never once managed to get any of my family to let up."

"Family?" Harry asked in turn.

"My mother is Daphne's older sister. Something my dear aunty never let me forget," Tracey rolled her eyes. "It was a huge scandal back in the day. Grandmother Greengrass was already showing in her wedding photos… then when they engaged mother to one of the Nott cousins so she wouldn't have a chance to do the same, she ran off to marry the first muggle she could find to escape it," She shuddered slightly. "Although having met Abiron Nott, I cannot blame her too much."

"Why a muggle?" Sally-Anne asked, biting her lip.

"Muggles don't have magic," Tracey shook her head. "Therefore the marriage contract wouldn't recognise her infidelity… but the courts have to accept muggle marriage certificates under the Statute."

"Your mother was a Slytherin too, wasn't she?" Harry chuckled softly.

"Ravenclaw, actually," Tracey dusted off her shoulders primly, sparking another round of laughter. "She's the one who invented my invisibility trick."

"Ah, yes. The mysterious secret behind you always being able to sneak up on me," Harry murmured. "It's not disillusionment, because Susan saw you behind me on the train. It's not notice-me-not because it works when you're all alone… and it's not a veil because I haven't taught you how to do them yet."

"It's not a spell at all," Tracey replied, smugly. "More like… a frame of mind. Did you know that when you're tracking magicals, you use your ability to sense magic as much as your eyes and ears?"

"I had noticed," He agreed. "Why do you think it's so very disconcerting that I keep…" He trailed off. "Your mother figured out a way to hide her magic."

"My mother figured out a way to hide her magic," Tracey confirmed. "And I promised to teach it to you if you taught me how to make those lights."

"Which I have now started doing," He agreed.

"Well, the basic idea is that when we get angry or upset, our magic gets stronger, right?" She started, settling down cross-legged next to Sally-Anne.

"Right," He nodded. "Because magic is actually _powered_ by emotion, but our wands act as a bypass in that equation."

"Right," She nodded. "So if you _reduce_ your emotions, feel less strongly, then your magic might get _weaker_."

"Not something anyone would normally want…" Sally-Anne mumbled.

"Of course, you can't eliminate emotions entirely," Tracey nodded. "Even psychopaths who can't relate to people's feelings at all still have their own emotions to deal with. That's why nutjobs like You-Know-Who are so powerful – they can't release their emotions the normal way so they just build up and build up and turn into a massive wellspring of magical power," She paused for a moment. "So what mother taught me to do is to to _step aside_. Feel the emotions, but don't connect to them. It's… a bit scary, not being able to use magic, especially since it only hides me from magical senses, but…"

"Definitely worth it," Harry murmured.

"And quite terrifying," Lash added. "Teaching how to form that kind of emotional detachment is how mortals turn _good men_ into _effective soldiers_."

His reaction to Lash's words must have shown on his face because Tracey quirked an eyebrow at him and asked; "Commentary from the peanut gallery?"

"What?!" Harry choked, his voice squeaking. For her part, Lash was too amused to reply.

Tracey just smirked at him. "Come off it, Harry. Everyone knows you have an invisible friend, and it's not like they're putting much effort into hiding themselves while you're using advanced post-graduate legilimency skills to show me new magic."

"... That's an Angel of the Lord you're mocking," He grumbled.

"Really?" Tracey tilted her head. "If you had an actual angel sitting on your shoulder, I'd think you would be a little more… Christian."

"I…" Harry paused, then sat back on his heels, thoughtfully. "I guess I am. I mean… I know He's out there, somewhere. Waiting. He sent Lash to me, to protect and nurture me…" He shook his head. "But He barely gave her any information."

"He's too good for us," Lash snorted. "He got Uriel to pass the mission along. I haven't communicated with God directly since I fell."

"Well, that sounds like a Good Omens reference if I ever heard one," Tracey shook her head. "All about that ineffability."

"Ah..?" Sally-Anne asked, quietly.

"I'll lend it to you, I have it in my trunk," Tracey told her. "So what did your spirit guide say?" She asked Harry, getting the conversation back on track.

"She's a guardian angel," Harry corrected her, primly. "And she said you scare her."

Tracey just smirked again.


	13. Gryffindor vs Slytherin

Disclaimer: Harry Potter is property of JK Rowling. The Dresden Files are property of Jim Butcher. Original story concept and books 1 and 2 belong to Silently Watches. For the events of those books, see his story A Deal with a Devil available on at s/11188292/1/Deal-with-a-Devil

* * *

 **Chapter 13: Gryffindor vs Slytherin**

"Potter," Malfoy's voice was an unwelcome intrusion the following Saturday morning. Harry looked up from his potions text and quirked an eyebrow at the blonde, doing his best to ignore the bitter tang of the mandrake under his tongue.

"Malfoy. To what do I owe this honour?" He asked, unsure whether he was channelling Lash or Tracey.

"Fetch your minion and put some decent shoes on. We're going to watch the Quidditch match," Malfoy informed him. "Crabbe and Goyle are otherwise occupied and you need to be more of a part of the House if you're going to make anything of this opportunity before it vanishes completely."

"I'm not his minion, he's mine," Tracey whispered in Malfoy's ear, making the blonde jump an inch off the floor.

"Don't do that!" He squawked at her, getting a smirk in return. "Bloody hell, Davis, know your place."

"My Lady?" Harry rose, inclining his head respectfully to Tracey. "What is your command?"

"We shall allow Draco to accompany us to the Quidditch pitch," Tracey replied, imperiously. "After all, we wouldn't want the poor, delicate pureblood to be left all on his own. Something might bruise him."

"... You two are unbelievable," Malfoy muttered.

"Show some respect. That's your future Dark Lady you're talking to, Malfoy," Harry deadpanned.

"If she had some talent other than essay writing and sneaking up on people, I might almost believe you're not making fun of me," Malfoy replied, equally dryly.

"As the song goes… you ain't seen nothin' yet," Harry smirked. "But Quidditch? Really?" He grimaced.

"It _is_ a good chance to network," Tracey said. "And Malfoy is a future power. If nothing else, being seen with him will give us more weight to stay out of the game."

"Fine," Harry sighed.

"How come you listen to her?" Lash mock-sulked. Harry did not deign to reply in Malfoy's presence.

The watery ceiling added an unusual dynamic to the game, which often rose to altitudes so great that the crowd needed special binoculars to track the action. The enforced altitude limit seemed to be making for a far more vicious game than usual as players repeatedly soaked their heads trying to evade fouls and tackles. In short order all four beaters had been replaced with their substitutes, revealing the 'other business' that Malfoy's bookends were engaged with as reserves on the Slytherin team, swiftly followed by the Gryffindors subbing their new chaser (youngest player since James Potter, announced Lee Jordan), first year Demelza Robins, into the Seeker role as Dean Thomas was carried off to the infirmary courtesy of Goyle's bat.

"Never have I been so glad I do not play this game," Harry muttered to Tracey, who just nodded.

"Looks like we've got this in the bag," Malfoy smirked. "Gryffindor don't have a reserve chaser, and if Robins spends time with the quaffle she'll never spot the Snitch."

"About the only time Higgs is going to get the damn thing," Tracey muttered.

"... Tracey. Do you actually _like_ quidditch?" Harry asked, slowly.

"If Greengrass hadn't forbidden it last year I'd have been the first one to put up my name for tryouts," She admitted. "Although half the positions are filled politically rather than on talent, and I'd never do well enough on a school broom to overcome the prejudice. Plus Flint doesn't like girls on brooms, the bloody muggle."

"I reckon we could _make_ better brooms than those relics," Harry agreed with a smirk. A smirk that faded a few moments later as a wave of cold swept across the stadium. His eyes automatically sought out Sally-Anne in the Hufflepuff stands opposite and noted that she was missing. He realised that he had no idea if that was normal, having otherwise not attended a single quidditch match himself since first year, but Susan didn't look worried. Not until she noticed what he had, at least as a cloud of black cloaks drifted towards the pitch from all sides save through the copse or over the compound itself. The water table slowly grew black with the reflected darkness of the dementors' cloaks.

"Of course such a concentration of emotions outside the compound ward would attract them," Lash murmured, thoughtfully. "Let us see how the teachers respond to this invasion."

Slowly, it seemed. The dementors were nearly to the pitch when Dumbledore finally stood and cast the Patronus charm to drive them away, his silver phoenix dancing around the stands to push the dementors back. It was joined a moment later by Lupin's fanged cloud (maybe it was a nishruu?) and McGonagall's cat. A strange euphoria welled up inside Harry as the phoenix flew past him, and a moment later he shared a look with Tracey and they raised their wands together.

"Expecto Patronum," They murmured, and Tracey managed to produce a thin mist almost as strong as Harry's. Even a spectral phoenix was a sight to inspire belief in hope.

Unnoticed by almost everyone, Demelza Robins caught the snitch, winning Gryffindor a narrow victory by ten points.

As the students filed back towards the compound under guard, Harry leaned in to ask Tracey what memory she'd used.

"I scare Lash," She replied. "Nobody's ever shown me that kind of respect before," She put a grin on her face, and he smiled back, acknowledging the effort.

* * *

Sally-Anne was in something of a quandary. While her friends were at the quidditch pitch, she was in the luthier's workshop, contemplating her perfect ingot of goblin silver. She had tested it by pouring a little nitric acid onto the metal. Regular silver would have been dissolved rapidly, but the acid had slid off as the mystical substance rejected that which would weaken it. Making the fifty gram bar had put her magic at dangerously low levels even with the boost from her bracelet. Mass producing the stuff was definitely beyond her… which just left deciding what to do with what she'd made the first time.

"Lac, can I borrow you for a minute?" She asked, glancing over at the faerie, who was kneeling on a fifth year transfiguration textbook, poring over the magics within.

"What for?" She asked suspiciously, looking back.

"I just need some measurements," Sally-Anne replied with a secretive smile, and reached up to tie her hair back into a tail.

By the time Harry and Tracey slipped into the workshop, she was standing over the anvil she'd dragged in from the farrier's awning the day before, beating the very tip of the ingot she'd chipped off into an inch-and-a-half rod, the bottom end gripped in a long-handled clamp. She was wearing the dragonhide gloves from her potions kit and had a yellow fire burning in her crucible under an air filtering charm.

"... I was wondering what the clanging noise was," Tracey muttered. "I have to admit, if I were going to suspect anyone in our year of being into hitting things with hammers, you're probably the last person who would come to mind."

"I… I just like making stuff, I guess," Sally-Anne was flushed from the heat of the metal she was working, but she felt a familiar heat in her cheeks that had nothing to do with temperature.

"... Is that a _letter opener_?" Harry asked when he saw what she was doing.

"It's a surprise," Sally-Anne replied, shyly.

"The goblin silver?" He guessed. She nodded, concentrating.

"I need to focus on the intent, so…" she trailed off.

"We'll leave you to it," Tracey said, with a nod, and tugged Harry back out of the workshop. "We can practice in your dorm," She told him, sealing the door again with the concealment charms. Unfortunately for that plan, they were intercepted as they rounded the kitchens.

"I'm not certain that the wake of a Dementor swarm is the best time to be trysting." Professor Lupin warned them.

"We were just making some happy memories, professor," Tracey said, straight-faced.

"Happy…" Lupin trailed off, then smiled. "Are you working on the Patronus charm?" He asked.

"Yes, Professor. We've managed to produce a shield form, but we're still working on the corporeal part," Harry said. "Healer Tonks showed me the charm..."

"Hm. You both had terrible reactions to the dementors. Is that the reason you tried to avoid your turn with the boggart at the start of term?" He asked.

"Nobody _wants_ to face their greatest fear, sir," Tracey pointed out.

"Gryffindors," Harry reminded her.

"Nobody _sensible_ wants to face their greatest fear," Tracey conceded, much to Lupin's amusement.

"I was a Gryffindor in my time, you know," He told them.

"You have my condolences," Tracey told him, and this time he _did_ laugh.

"More to the point," Harry added, once he was quiet again, "I don't want the rest of the school to know what I'm afraid of."

"Longbottom's was humiliating enough," Tracey agreed. "And… with all due respect, Harry's is probably Voldemort, which is the last thing you want popping up in a room full of thirteen year olds."

"That is, in fact, why I let you get away with it," Lupin confirmed. "But perhaps…" he trailed off, thoughtfully. "Miss Davis, what would you say is more frightening? Danger? Or the inability to act against that danger?"

"... The latter," Tracey replied, guardedly. "Being powerless is the most frightening thing anyone can go through."

"Fear in small doses sharpens the senses. Fear as the Dementors create it is a paralytic…"

"If we can find someone whose greatest fear is dementors, we could use a Boggart for practicing the Patronus charm!" Harry finished the thought, excitedly.

"Well, the Boggart is mostly useful for holding the charm once you've cast it, but yes, that's the theory," Lupin nodded. "Although some people have reported that spells become easier to cast when you genuinely need to be able to cast them. The mental theory behind magic is still very unclear. If you like, I'll have a hunt around for another Boggart and I'll host some practice sessions for you."

"Actually, could we bring our friend Sally-Anne in as well? She's trying to learn the charm too," Tracey said.

"I don't see why not," Lupin smiled. "Well. I have no plans for the rest of the evening," He paused. "Perhaps you'd like to join me for a cup of tea, Harry? I was friends with your father. I imagine you'd like to get to know him a little better? You're welcome to join us, Miss Davis, if Harry agrees."

"I'd like that," Harry smiled.

"Hm. Hear stories about dead Gryffindors or reread Reaper Man…" Tracey mused.

"Is there really a difference, when you get down to it?" Lupin asked with a grin.

"You like Pratchett?" Tracey perked up. "You've _read_ Pratchett?!"

"Well, I aten't _dead_ ," He replied. "Come on, let's get that tea."

* * *

The twenty-ninth of November couldn't come fast enough. The mandrake tainted everything they ate with a near-unbearable bitterness, and the amount of magic they were drawing to negate the toxicity of the leaves left their spellcasting weak and embarrassingly unsteady. Lupin had talked Madam Pomphrey into signing off on excusing them from in-class wand work for a month with a knowing smirk, which in hindsight was probably the only thing that stopped McGonagall from realising what they were up to.

Lili had harvested the dew for them from a high corner of the valley, but there remained a problem. None of them had managed to produce a corporeal Patronus. Escaping the valley to complete the next part of the ritual was a significant concern, until Harry saw something unbelievable the day before the full moon.

A tall man in an Auror's brown trench coat appeared next to the lodge with the familiar crack of apparition before proceeding down to the compound. His business really wasn't all that important to Harry, but the fact he'd apparated into the valley _was_. Harry turned back to Kenzie, continuing to oil her coat carefully. It had cracked in places where she was growing so quickly. He knew how they were getting past the Dementors now.

They met the next morning by the Lodge at seven o'clock. Lili was carrying a glass phial with the dew in it, while Harry had the crystal phials and Sally-Anne the silver teaspoons. He took Sally-Anne up first, then Tracey.

"It's pretty amazing," Tracey murmured, looking out over the Bardsey. They were halfway up the hill at the eastern end of the island and could see the entirety of Ynys Enlli laid out before them under the pure moonlight. They didn't have long. The precise moment of the full moon was after dawn, but the liminality of the moment they had chosen instead made up the difference arithmantically.

"Alright," Harry murmured, handing out the crystal phials. "Put the mandrake, steeped for a moon, in a crystal phial that is receiving the pure light of the moon," He took the bitter leaf from under his tongue and suited action to words, along with the other two. "Then add a silver teaspoon of dew untouched by sunlight for seven days…"

Lili uncorked the glass phial, pouring a little dew into each teaspoon. The teaspoon and the dew joined the mandrake leaves.

"Add a single hair and the chrysalis of a death's-head moth," Sally-Anne murmured as they plucked themselves for the potion-ritual.

"Seal the crystal phial," Tracey murmured, "and put it in a dark, quiet place," She took the two phials from the others and walked into the cave at their backs, placing them in a high nook. "Leave them undisturbed…" she returned to the others, "and at the dawn and the dusk…" she took her wand out, touching it over her heart. Harry and Sally-Anne mirrored her.

The sun crested the horizon.

" _Amato Animo Animato Animagus_ ," They chanted together.


	14. First Christmas

Disclaimer: Harry Potter is property of JK Rowling. The Dresden Files are property of Jim Butcher. Original story concept and books 1 and 2 belong to Silently Watches. For the events of those books, see his story A Deal with a Devil available on at s/11188292/1/Deal-with-a-Devil

* * *

 **Chapter 14: First Christmas**

Other than their dawn and dusk ritual, the most exciting thing to happen outside class was the near-universal grumbling over the lack of a Hogsmeade weekend. There had been some muttering about being permitted to visit the magical shopping district in Pwllheli, but the sign-up sheets had never manifested. The logistics of keeping the carriages hidden simply weren't feasible. Sally-Anne remained secretive regarding her goblin silver, insisting that it would be ready 'when it was ready'.

The last day of term found Harry in the library, poring over a bevy of books on the relationship between Christianity and wizards.

"So we had quite a good relationship with them up until the reformation…" Harry mumbled, thoughtfully. "Hogwarts stood openly for nearly five hundred years before the witch hunts really got going."

"Hogwarts apparently also taught Merlin," Lash reminded him, "despite not being founded until six hundred years after the time of Arthur. Either someone has been breaking the sixth law or the histories are so revisionist as to be utterly useless."

"Well. Given the essay on the witch hunts…" he sighed. "It's not looking good," He pushed the last book away with a sigh.

"Archbishop Chad of York," Lili said, sitting up. She was looking at another book on the other side of the table. "He was a wizard. He was ordered to step down, but commended for his work. And something about that name…" she frowned.

"Heaven forbid the queen give you the information we need directly," Harry agreed. "But you found something helpful?"

"Mhm," Lili nodded. "He apparently did something… scattered Holy Water in the halls of the King to cast out the devil. It doesn't sound like the ritual the queen described, but..."

"But there was no single king of England when Chad was archbishop," Lash mused and Harry repeated. "Perhaps… alright. Let's focus our research on Chad for now."

"Harry?" Tracey's voice came from the next stack over. "Sal asked me to find you."

"I'm here," He called back softly, and started closing the books. He glanced up to give her a smile as she came round the corner.

"Don't ever stop, do you?" She smirked at him. "If you aren't skimming books for Herself, you're researching hard yourself. Although I have to wonder why."

"Why what?" He asked.

"Why you read things the slow way," She perched on the edge of the table while he finished clearing away.

"Oh," He chuckled. "I already showed them all to Lash. But it's better for my learning if I go over them myself as well. There's also the fact that I sometimes make intuitive leaps she misses… although not as often as the other way round."

"Huh. I guess that makes sense," She nodded.

"Besides, there's always the chance something might go wrong. If something happened to her, or if we ran into something that could block me from hearing her voice…" he grimaced at the idea that anything could have that power, but Mallt had done it.

"Now there's a sobering thought," Tracey agreed quietly. "Well. Sally-Anne said it was important. Shall we?" She offered him her arm as he banished the books back to their shelves.

"We shall," He took her arm. Lili joined them a moment later, diving into the front of Tracey's robe to make herself comfortable.

"They're not a shelf, you know." was the grumbled response, to which Lili did not reply.

Sally-Anne was sitting perched on the edge of her workstation in the Luthier's. Tracey had set up her own next to it, although she had yet to do more than use it as a place to do her schoolwork. The blonde muggleborn was fidgeting nervously with her hands, although she gave the Slytherins a hopeful smile as they filed in.

"So, um," Sally-Anne started, then bit her lip. The others waited for her to get her thoughts in order. "I'm going home with Susan tomorrow. Madam Bones is hosting a big Yule ball for the department, and it'll be a chance to see Hannah again and stuff, so…" She trailed off, shyly, before picking up a triangular copper plate from the table. It was about an inch on each side and had a fifteen inch gold chain hanging from each point. "I thought it would be good if we had some way to contact each other… while I'm away. In case the storm comes."

"Alright?" Harry tilted his head curiously. "That's a good idea, although I'll be ghosting over to pick you up anyway."

"And what if it's in the middle of the night and she has to get dressed?" Tracey pointed out with a grin.

"Oh," Harry blushed. "So, uh, what have you made us?"

"It's a rune plate," Sally-Anne explained. Then she cracked it into three parts and handed them one each. "Three parts of a whole thing retain their connection," She touched her piece with her right hand, " _Cynhesu_ ," She murmured, and all three pieces of metal warmed up.

"That's useful," Harry nodded. "Good idea. We'll wear them round our necks," He smiled at her. She nodded back, then bit her lip.

"I also… I wanted to give you your christmas presents now so I can watch you open them…" She admitted, picking up a couple of small, wrapped boxes, "and because I didn't want to do the final infusion on Lac's gift without someone to spot me." She held them out.

"You got me something?" Lili asked, popping her head out of Tracey's collar to look at her, wide-eyed. "Noo, I can't be indebted to a mortal!" She tore at her hair.

"In exchange for this gift, I charge you to use it in my defence," Sally-Anne stammered, indicating the flat box still on the table. The little fey considered that for a moment, before nodding and pulling herself free. Harry and Tracey took their presents, and Lili knelt over hers.

"Here," Harry dug in his bag of holding for a moment, passing the wrapped gift to Sally-Anne. "I was going to give it to you before you left tomorrow, but if we're doing this now…"

"Th-thanks…" She took the gift.

"Bah… here," Tracey picked up something from her workstation. "Didn't know I'd be making so many friends and owl post down here is iffy as hell, so sorry if it's not great."

"You got me something," Sally-Anne whispered. "That's more than I could have expected."

"Yeah, well, I'm not a jeweller like you or a sculptor like Harry, so…" She shrugged, self-consciously. "You first?"

"A-alright," Sally-Anne nodded, and opened Tracey's present. Inside was a thumb-sized hunk of polished blue lace agate.

"It promotes calmness and healing…" Tracey mumbled, fidgeting slightly. "If you meditate with it. I thought… it might help since you can't get muggle meds any more… ack!"

Sally-Anne had thrown her arms around the Slytherin brunette and was hugging her tightly.

"It's beautiful. I can work it into a necklace and use it for cleansing rituals and all sorts of things. Thank you," She said, and kissed her on the cheek, leaving her pink-cheeked.

"Ah… r-right. Harry, yours can wait for Christmas proper, right?" Tracey eyed the sole boy in their group.

"Absolutely," He agreed with a grin. "Your turn," He nodded to her present from Sally-Anne.

Tracey carefully removed the spellotaped paper to reveal a box of the sort ink bottles usually came in. She blinked, and looked at Sally-Anne.

"Inside," She giggled, sheepishly. Tracey nodded and opened the box to reveal a silver ring on a bed of cotton wool, clearly too small for her finger. "It's an attunement ring for your wand. I used the goblin silver. It should recognise the attunement charm's intent as a source of strength, so we can move it from you to the ring this afternoon and you can start working on evocation foci over the holiday."

"That's… wow. So that's why you borrowed my wand…" she murmured. She took the ring out of the box and slid it down her ash wand until it fitted neatly against the base. "A perfect fit. Thank you."

"You're welcome," Sally-Anne smiled. "Harry?"

"I'm opening it," He smiled, and suited action to words, revealing another ink bottle box. Inside was a silver charm in the shape of a shield, with a jump ring near the top. He took it out and gave Sally-Anne a curious smile.

"It's for your shield bracelet," She said. "I, um, stole some malaclaw venom from Professor Snape… and mixed it with some essence of inversion and soaked the charm in it…"

"So it should make me lucky?" He asked.

"Well… that was the plan, but… goblin silver doesn't really do _nice_ ," Sally-Anne fidgeted slightly. "And neither does malaclaw venom… Budge says he tried to use it in his first draft of Felix Felicis, but the potion turned out to be too poisonous…" She trailed off, then shook her head. "A-anyway. Will and intent. It should hit whoever tries to curse you with a bit of bad luck."

"That is just as useful," He said, and gave her a careful hug. "Thank you."

She hugged him back, just as carefully.

"Alright. Just yours left," She smiled at Lili, letting go.

"We can guess what it is…" Tracey grinned.

Lili nodded, and opened the flat package to reveal the sword blade Sally-Anne had forged and now mounted.

"The hilt is ashwood and gold," She explained quietly. "The pommel stone is crystallised dragon blood, and I wrapped the tang in a hair from Kenzie's mane soaked in the residue from making the stone. I wanted to use a phoenix tail feather, but I couldn't get hold of one."

"... Those bits of wood you gave me," Lili frowned. "That etching project… you sneak," She looked up at Sally-Anne, admiringly. "What do they do?"

"They attune a wand to your magic," Sally-Anne replied, softly. "Between Ollivander's attunement spell, the ash wood and the dragon's heartblood, that sword should cut through just about anything you want it to… and nothing you don't. Which is very important for what I want to do next."

"You said you wanted us there when you cast the last spell for the gifts…" Harry frowned a bit. "Sal, what are you going to do?"

"First, Lac, you should feed it some of your blood so it knows you," Sally-Anne told the little fey, who nodded and cut her thumb with the sword. "And now defeat me. _Rictumsempra_ ," She tossed a tickling charm at Lili, who yelped in alarm and threw herself off the table, out of the way. " _Tittilando!_ " A tickling hex, faster than the charm if less powerful, followed the first spell. Lili spiralled around it, beating her wings invisibly before flicking her new sword out to slice into Sally-Anne's thumb, making her flinch and drop her wand. "Ow!"

"Try that again," Lili scowled, "And you'll discover you're no longer protected by my oath to Harry!"

"I'd say that's fair," She agreed with a grimace, and pressed the wound closed gently with her other hand. It was about an inch long and relatively deep. " _Caeo_ ," She muttered, focussing. " _Caeo y briw_."

"Mind telling us what that was all about?" Tracey asked, frowning.

"Goblin silver only recognises its crafter as its true owner," Sally-Anne replied. "But dragon wands can be won in battle. Now the sword recognises Lac as its owner... " She bent to pick up her wand. "And I can infuse it."

"What are you going to infuse it with?" Harry asked. "A sword that size isn't going to do a lot of damage to anything no matter how hard you swing it."

"Dark magic," Sally-Anne replied. "Put the sword on the table. I _really_ don't want to catch you on the edge of this," She held her wand up in front of her and closed her eyes. Lili put the sword down on the workstation and backed away, flying up to sit on Tracey's shoulder. Harry stood behind Sally-Anne and put his hand on her shoulder gently in support, and Tracey joined him a moment later.

"He hated me," Sally-Anne whispered. "He thought I was a plague on the world. That my parents were animals. That everything valuable in me was stolen and the rest should be destroyed. He took my family from me and his punishment was a week in Azkaban and a hundred galleon fine," She began to tremble as she built up her rage and fear. "I won't stand for it any more. I'll be strong. I'll destroy anyone who threatens me or my friends. _Aura Caedeo_!" She jerked her wand through a long-tailed Q pattern as she brought it to bear on the sword, green light leaping from the end of her larch wand and grounding itself in the goblin silver sword, which drank up the violent magic thirstily.

A rushing sound filled Harry's ears as everything moved slowly. There was something fascinatingly, hauntingly familiar about the whine of the dark magic as it flashed across the space. His eyes tracked the singing scythe of green light as it flew from her wand to the sword as everything started to go dark around the edges. Very distantly, he thought, perhaps, someone was calling his name.

It was pretty, in a way, he thought. The green light. A shade lighter than his eyes.

"-ry? Harry!" Lash's voice broke through the moment, and he realised he'd let go of Sally-Anne's shoulder as though to try and catch the green flash. "Can you hear me, Harry?"

"H-harry? Are you ok?" Sally-Anne was asking, worry naked on her face. It was echoed on Tracey's for a moment, before the dark-haired girl closed off her feelings again.

"Stupid boy…" Tracey muttered, pulling a hankie out of her pocket and wiping Harry's face with it. "It wasn't the same curse," she told him, firmly, helping him over to the cushion pile. "It looked similar, but it wasn't the same." Despite her insistence, her voice was shaking slightly as she turned her back on a confused and concerned Sally-Anne.

"I-I'm sorry," Sally-Anne whispered. "What… what did I do..?"

"That curse," Tracey snapped back at her with a glare. "It looked like the _Killing Curse_. In front of-" She stopped as words failed her.

"I'm fine," Harry whispered, his voice finally permitting him to use it. "It- it's just a spell. I don't even remember it. Dark Magic's just… it wouldn't be different if she used a severing charm instead of a cutting curse."

"It's different," Tracey said, quietly, sitting next to him and curling one knee up to her chest. " _Diffindo_ is used for all sorts of things and was invented for cutting fabric. You just twitch your wand and say the words and it happens. Dark Magic, the killing curse, that... _cutting air_ curse... they," her voice broke, "they're not like that."

"You have to mean it," Sally-Anne bit her lip. "Th… they're like evocation, only with a wand. But they're hard to block, and… and always effective. So I thought… it- if I fed it to Lac's sword," she reached out towards Harry, then dropped her hand when he flinched away.

"Give me control," Lash said. "And rest, child."

Harry needed no further encouragement, closing his eyes and retreating into his mind.

"Oh shit," Tracey muttered when she saw the emerald eyes opening on Harry's forehead.

"I'll deal with you in a minute," Lash told Sally-Anne, coldly. The muggleborn flinched, her face crumpling as she sat down and wrapped her arms around her stomach. Lash looked at Tracey, then pulled the startled half-blood into a hug with none of Harry's usual hesitance. "One casting does not mean she is like them," She whispered, for Tracey's ears only. "And you will teach her not to go down that route."

"What..?" Tracey asked, her voice strangled, but she knew exactly what their teacher was saying. Her eyes burned at the thought of Sally-Anne, her face cold and her laugh high, surrounded by greasy light and screams, though no tears fell.

Tracey Davis had run out of tears long ago.


	15. A Clean Sweep

Disclaimer: Harry Potter is property of JK Rowling. The Dresden Files are property of Jim Butcher. Original story concept and books 1 and 2 belong to Silently Watches. For the events of those books, see his story A Deal with a Devil available on at s/11188292/1/Deal-with-a-Devil

* * *

Chapter 15: A Clean Sweep

The first week of the holidays passed in something of a haze. Neither Harry not Tracey felt much up to talking, both of them processing that day's events. They jogged before breakfast like always, ate, studied, but they were just going through the motions. Sally-Anne hadn't moved the attunement spell in the end, none of them had been in a fit state for complex workings, and Tracey's evocation remained difficult and weak. It wasn't until Christmas morning that something occurred to knock them out of their mutual funk, as during their morning animagus ritual Tracey felt the thump of a double heartbeat as her wand touched her chest. It was proof that her potion was maturing properly.

The Slytherins were housed in a two floor basement, girls on the top and boys underneath with first years furthest from the stairs. The stairs met at a broad mezzanine that doubled as a common room. She met up with Harry there after the dawn casting to find him examining a long parcel with confusion and curiosity.

"What's that?" She asked, plopping down next to him.

"A Christmas present, apparently," He replied. "Although it doesn't say who it's from."

"Maybe there's a card inside?" She suggested, leaning forward to snag her gifts from under the little tree. "It's not from me this time."

"This time?" He blinked, then narrowed his eyes. "The sugar quills."

"I know what it's like to be unappreciated at Christmas," She replied, studiously not meeting his gaze.

He gave her hand a little squeeze. "Thanks, Tracey. It was appreciated," He murmured, then looked back at the large packet. "I think I'll open yours first," He decided, putting it aside and taking the smaller, more clumsily wrapped package from where it was sat next to his knee.

"I'm going to guess that it's in an ink bottle box," He added, wryly, as he hefted it gently. "Just from the size."

"I think you might be surprised at what's in there," Tracey replied, wryly, watching as he removed the paper to reveal an ink bottle box identical to the ones their presents from Sally-Anne had been in. He opened the box and removed the gift, looking at it and then laughing as he placed the bottle of silver ink down next to him. Tracey hid her grin behind her hand then picked up his gift to her.

"And what have you bought me, Master Potter?" She asked, examining the gift. It was approximately the size of a wand case. "It's heavy."

"You'll have to open it and see," he replied.

Inside the plain brown wrapping paper was a walnut box with a hinged lid, which she opened to reveal a pair of folding Spanish fans on a bed of velvet. One of them had white paper vanes, while the other was made with dark green lace and silvery guards. She realised a moment later that the guards were actually steel. She picked up the steel fan first, flicking it open with a twist of her thumb and wrist, to examine it. The lace was worked in a pattern that showed the four founders battling a dragon in intricate detail, while the wooden spars were carved with a repeating geometric pattern, and the steel guards were etched with grapevines.

"This is beautiful," She murmured. "It's way too much."

"I've seen how you get when the purebloods are fluttering around putting on airs," He replied, quietly. "Pretending to be proper little noblewomen even if they haven't a knut to their own name." He paused. "Also, you can take the guards off with a pin when you're ready and carve a focus into the spine, and it's solid enough to use for self defence."

"You don't do fluffy, do you?" She chuckled.

"I'm practical to the core," He agreed. "Look at the other one."

She tucked the steel fan into her robes and slipped the paper one out of the box, opening it the same way to examine the vanes, only to let out a strangled giggle. "A fanology?"

"Not just any fanology," He replied with a cheeky grin.

"A fanology of insults," She peered closer at the list of movements and positions explained on the fan. She closed it then opened it again quickly. "You're tiresome," She grinned, and flipped it closed to tap her left ear, "I wish to be rid of you… This is brilliant."

"I thought you might like it," Harry grinned. "Alright. Let's see what this mystery gift is, then," He used his wand to cut the paper off from a distance, revealing a large box with a thin glass front.

"A broomstick?" Tracey tilted her head, lowering her hastily erected shield spell. "A Cleansweep Nine. They only came out this year."

"... Probably better than the one I have," He admitted. "Cleansweep is pretty much the best non-sporting brand, isn't it?"

"Reliability, stability, and gentility," Tracey agreed, quoting the company byline. "Who the hell would buy you that expensive a gift and not leave a note..? Oh, crap."

"What?"

"If anyone was going to buy you a ridiculously expensive present for no reason other than 'because you're Harry Potter', they would have done it first year when you came back. Which means that this broom is probably a trap," She pointed out.

"We should get it checked over," Lash agreed. "Take it to Flitwick first, then I'll have a look."

"Not Snape?" Harry wondered.

"Charms are more Flitwick's area of expertise," She noted. He nodded in understanding and pushed himself to his feet, offering Tracey his hand. "Coming?"

"With you, not over you," She quipped, then pouted as it went straight over his head.

"... Lash laughed?" He offered, hopefully, which satisfied her at least a little.

The walk across the compound was chilly despite the constant temperature.

"If we were in Hogwarts, the ground would be covered in snow," Tracey mused. "Do you remember back in first year? The Weasley twins charmed all those snowballs to chase Professor Quirrel aro- Harry, what's wrong?" she frowned as he twitched.

"I don't much like remembering Professor Quirrel," He replied, softly. "I watched him die."

"Ugh," she pushed her glasses up to pinch the bridge of her nose. "Sorry, right. That was a thing that happened."

"Pretty much," He agreed, then pulled them to a stop outside the staff room to knock at the door. A sleepy-looking McGonagall answered a few moments later, wearing a knitted cap and a dressing gown.

"Potter and Davis. To what do I owe the pleasure at...?" She glanced back, squinting, into the room, "nine in the morning on Christmas day?"

"We'd quite like to know ourselves, professor," Harry replied. He had the boxed room on one shoulder. "Someone sent me an unsigned but extremely extravagant christmas present, and we were hoping Professor Flitwick would check to make sure it's not been cursed."

"I'll take it to him," McGonagall groaned and lifted the box from his shoulder with her wand. "Go find some breakfast. It's too early in the morning for work," She told them as the box floated gently into the staff room.

"Yes, Professor. Thank you," Tracey tugged Harry away gently. The door closed, and they sighed.

"Well, at least it's being dealt with," Harry said. "And breakfast isn't a terrible idea."


	16. Service for Thirteen

Disclaimer: Harry Potter is property of JK Rowling. The Dresden Files are property of Jim Butcher. Original story concept and books 1 and 2 belong to Silently Watches. For the events of those books, see his story A Deal with a Devil available on at s/11188292/1/Deal-with-a-Devil

* * *

 **Chapter 16: Service for Thirteen**

Almost nobody had stayed for the holidays. Most people were too eager to be home with their families, especially after last year. They headed to the Hall for dinner to find that the house tables were bare, but the high table where the teachers sat was set for twelve. Professor Dumbledore was quietly talking with Professor Snape, and a couple of very nervous first-year Gryffindors were whispering to each other. Professors Vector and Lupin joined them a moment later without interrupting their conversation, followed by McGonagall, Sprout, Flitwick and Babbling.

"What are you waiting for, an invitation?" Snape snapped at his students, who were still dithering by the student tables. "Sit down."

The half-bloods shared a look and joined their teachers, sitting next to the two first years.

"Merry Christmas," Dumbledore smiled, his beard shaking with the words. He looked like he was about to burst out into 'Ho ho ho' at any moment.

"Uh, Merry Christmas, Headmaster," Harry replied, a little warily.

"No need to be so suspicious," Dumbledore chuckled. "Professor Snape was just telling me about your wonderfully eventful summer."

"It was nothing special, sir…" Harry started, then trailed off as the doors opened again, this time to reveal Professor Trelawny, floating in as if blown by the wind. Her green dress glittered with sequins, reinforcing more than ever the impression of an oversized dragonfly.

"Sybill! We weren't expecting to see you today," Dumbledore stood to greet her with open arms.

"A last minute shift in the mists directed me to join you…" She replied in her airiest voice as she drifted towards the table. "I am but a leaf on the winds of fate."

"Of course," Dumbledore smiled, "let me draw you up a chair," He said, and proceeded to sketch one in the air. McGonagall groaned at the pun, while Snape and Lupin had amusingly identical reactions as they put their heads in their hands. The chair fell an inch to the ground a moment later at the end of the table.

"Thank you, Albus…" Sybill replied, drifting forward again. Her eyes roamed across the table as she put her hand on the chair, only for her to freeze with a soft, panicked gasp. "No, I- I dare not. There are thirteen of us… when thirteen dine, the first to rise will be the first to die…"

"But likely not for many years yet." Vector sniped back. "None of us have any pressing medical conditions and none of us are studying for their NEWTs."

"Oh, very well…" Trelawney sat, eyes clenched shut, trembling with tension as though she expected to spontaneously combust. After a few moments, she relaxed with a sigh.

"Tripe, Sybill?" McGonagall asked, then offered her a tureen a moment later. Tracey choked back a giggle, earning her a scowl from their head of house, although the amusement in his eyes softened the blow.

"I'm glad to see that you are well, Professor Lupin," Trelawney ignored her to address the Defence professor. "You are remembering to take your potion, aren't you?"

"The probability of Remus forgetting his potion is infinitesimal." Vector admonished her, while Lupin sat back to enjoy the show. "Or did your tea tell you otherwise?"

"It is simply gauche to parade one's knowledge of the future, Septima," Sybill replied. "People in the now tend to resent it. Poor Professor Lupin is not long for us."

"Hmph. Only because of the curse," Septima retorted. "But he will _resign_ , not _die_."

"Oh, you poor dear…" Sybill shook her head. "So certain in your silly numbers… you cannot pin destiny down with a stylus."

"Have you tried these chipolatas, Derek?" Dumbledore cut them off firmly. The first-year squeaked and shook his head, blushing at being spoken to by the headmaster.

Professor Trelawny and Professor Vector continued sniping at each other for the next two hours of dinner, providing excellent entertainment for the rest of the table until Harry stood, stuffed full and in need of the facilities. Trelawney gasped, and then something went _crack_ and the world started to tilt sideways. The pieces of something inside him shattered and fell. The last thing Harry saw before he passed out was Tracey's dark eyes looking down at him in a panic.

* * *

"Oh, get up, you bloody old fraud," Snape kicked a fainted Trelawney gently as he stepped over her to crouch next to Harry. He drew his wand and flicked it over the downed boy in a diagnostic charm. "Magical backlash," He frowned, then looked up at Dumbledore. "The ward is gone."

"Oh dear," Dumbledore ran a hand through his beard. "It seems that the festivities have come to an end for the day. Severus, help me take him to the infirmary. Minerva, if you would be so kind as to call St. Mungo's? There's no need to summon Poppy back from her family yet."

"Right away, Headmaster," McGonagall nodded, striding off in the other direction as Severus put a body-bind on Harry and levitated him off. Tracey followed, worried for her friend, all the way to the compound's infirmary. Poppy's domain was a long, single-story hall nearly the width of the festhall with a row of beds down each side, a curtained off space at the end serving as her office. Tracey waited just inside the door as Snape laid Harry down on one of the beds and began a more in-depth diagnostic charm. Dumbledore took over for a moment, then sighed to himself.

"I am getting too old for this," He grumbled. "Do not try to wake him. Tell the Healer what we have found. I will return as soon as I am able," He told Snape. "Fawkes!"

There was a flash of orange light as a fireball appeared in midair before resolving into a brilliantly-plumed bird. "Take me to Petunia Dursley," He told it, reaching up to grasp Fawkes' feet before man and bird vanished in another fireball.

"... Was that a phoenix?" Tracey asked, to distract herself from fretting.

"Insufferably smug is what it is." Professor Snape replied, darkly. "I suppose you'll be insisting on staying with the boy?"

"Suppose so," She agreed laconically and made her way to sit on the next bed along, her face a mask. Snape watched her for a moment, before nodding and sitting on the bed opposite.

"Tell me about him," He drawled.

"Sir?" Tracey looked up, startled.

"Harry Potter."

"Well…" She bit her lip, thoughtfully. "He's alright, I guess. Quiet. Goes through books like he's trying to memorise the library," She paused, waiting for a response that never came, then sighed. "He's my friend. Thought he'd just be… an ally, I guess. But he gets it, Professor. Somehow."

"Gets what?" Snape asked, grinding the words out.

"What it's like to be a freak without a real home," She muttered, almost inaudibly. "I don't fit in the muggle world. This world doesn't want me. Too muggle for the purebloods, too pureblood for the muggleborn fans… too bent for my family…" She sighed, and looked up. "Thanks for turning them down, by the way."

"This may come as a surprise to you, Miss Davis, but I am not in the habit of looking for future brides amongst those in my care," Snape drawled. "Even if I had been approached with such an offer."

"You… weren't?" She blinked.

"I am also a half-blood," He replied.

"Oh, he must have sent you the other letter then…" Tracey managed a smirk as her Head of House actually shuddered.

"Quite," he said; ending the conversation. The Healers from St. Mungo's bustled in a few minutes later. Tracey refused to let herself be run out of the room, although she did move back on the bed so she wasn't getting in the way. The two young men bustled around Harry's bed for twenty minutes before announcing that there was nothing wrong with him other than the backlash and some signs of early-childhood malnutrition. The former would stabilise and heal on its own while the latter was beyond their ability to fix. They gave him a potion to speed the process and left Tracey to her vigil, taking Snape with them.

Tracey sighed as she checked her tempus spell once they were alone. "You better wake up soon, Potter, or a lot of hard work will be going to waste."

She waited as long as she could, before touching her wand to her heart. "Amato. Animo. Animato. Animagus," She incanted as the sun began to set.

"Tracey..?" Harry whispered at the sound of her spell.

"No time," She shoved her wand into his hand and put it over his heart. "Say the words."

"An…" He started, then groaned. "Amato. Animo. Animato. Animagus," He croaked, then sat up with a groan. "What happened?" He asked, passing her wand back.

"You passed out after dinner. Professor Snape said… something about a ward? Then Dumbledore went to see someone about a petunia?"

"Aunt Petunia," He groaned. "He's never shown any interest in contacting my guardians before…" He sighed. "Can you… find out what's happening for me? The professors will probably want to know I'm awake."

Tracey gave his hand a squeeze, then nodded. "Don't you pass back out on me, Potter," She warned him. "I won't look like a fool for your sake."

"Wouldn't dream of it," He squeezed back, releasing her. She returned a few minutes later, carrying a tea tray for Dumbledore, who sat on the bed next to his.

"How do you feel?" The old man asked.

"I feel… surprisingly good, actually," He replied. "My throat is sore but I feel stronger."

"The portion of your magic that was being drawn to feed the blood wards around your home and family has been returned to you," He said, sadly. "I am afraid, my boy, that I must be the bearer of bad news. Your aunt fell asleep at the wheel while driving home from a relative's house after Christmas dinner. There was an accident and the car went off the road. There were no survivors."

"Oh," Harry said, looking away at where Lash was sitting on the end of his bed. He had expected to feel guilty, perhaps even upset that they were gone, but mostly he just felt empty.

"It is not your fault," Lash told him, firmly. He looked down.

"Harry?" Dumbledore asked quietly. "Is there anything I can get you?"

"No, I…" Harry shook his head. "I need to have a think. Thank you for telling me."

"Do not fret," Dumbledore said. "I will ensure that you have a place to stay over the summer."

"Thank you, but… I can make my own arrangements…" Harry said, a little distantly. "Sorry. I'd like to be alone please…" He gave Tracey a weak smile.

"I'll leave the tea here," She nodded her understanding. "I'll see you in the morning."

"Yeah. Thanks, Trace. You're a good friend," He said.

"Call me Trace again and I'll hex your balls off," she replied, putting the tray down and flouncing out. Dumbledore followed soon after.


	17. The Black Family Tree

Disclaimer: Harry Potter is property of JK Rowling. The Dresden Files are property of Jim Butcher. Original story concept and books 1 and 2 belong to Silently Watches. For the events of those books, see his story A Deal with a Devil available on at s/11188292/1/Deal-with-a-Devil

* * *

 **Chapter 17: The Black Family Tree**

Casting the dawn and dusk Animagus rituals became significantly less stressful once Harry had been released from the infirmary the next morning directly into the care of Healer Tonks.

Her little office was unchanged from their weekly Patronus lessons save for the addition of a green and gold caddy of special blend Christmas tea and a green blanket thrown over each of the squashy chairs. Andy saw him looking at the tea caddy and smiled.

"Hideous, isn't it? Ted's – my husband's – brother sent it to me for Christmas." Andy smiled at him, gesturing for him to sit and going to the drinks table. "How are you feeling?"

"Honestly?" Harry asked "I'm not feeling much of anything at all. I did not get on with my relatives. They were… distant at best."

"Oh?" She joined him with a mug of hot chocolate, pushing the other into his hands. He held it close, feeling the warmth burning its way into his hands while he considered his response.

"I feel guilty," he admitted hesitantly. "For not missing them more. I didn't get on with them, but they… they got better after I learned about magic."

"That's a much more common reaction than you think," Andy explained. "Especially the first time you lose someone, and especially among the Muggle-raised."

"It is?" Harry asked, looking up from his mug.

"Muggles are taught that grand displays of grief and emotion are the only way to prove to the world that you loved the person who died, and that if you don't show appropriate amounts of sorrow you're somehow emotionally malformed. Especially when the deceased was a member of your immediate family." She paused to sip her drink and let him think about it for a moment before continuing. "The truth is that everyone processes grief differently, and that's just fine."

Harry sat in silence, mulling over her words as he slowly drank his hot chocolate. Sensing his need to think, Lash left him alone as well, although she appeared next to him to put a comforting arm across his shoulders.

As the tears slowly began to slip down his cheeks, Harry Potter mourned the loss of what could have been. The death of his long-buried fantasy of an Aunt Petunia who loved him, of an Uncle Vernon who would want to teach him to drive. He mourned the death of a Dudley who would insist on introducing him to inappropriate women at university, just to get him out of the library.

As a gentle weight settled in on his other side and Andy Tonks put her arm round his shoulder, he turned his face and cried silently into her shoulder.

* * *

Flitwick returned the Cleansweep two days later, and Harry reluctantly allowed Tracey to talk him into going up with her on a school broom and Lupin chaperoning against the threat of the dementors for a game of catch-the-quaffle, which Lupin turned out to be hilariously bad at. Afterwards they retired to his office for hot chocolate.

"You really should try out for the quidditch team next year," Lupin told Tracey. "Both of you, actually," He included Harry in the statement after a moment; "Your father was a great chaser."

"I don't like Quidditch," Harry admitted. "I don't like watching it, and I don't like what it says about Wizarding culture."

"What do you mean?" Tracey asked with a slight scowl.

"Well," He gestured at them with his mug, "what does it say about a society when their main sport is focused around a game that hinges almost entirely around a single, special player who gets no support in his actions, but is perfectly acceptable to target and blame when you lose?"

"It says that teamwork is more important than special heroes," Tracey replied. "That putting your hopes in the Seeker when he's not up to the task is stupid. A team with good Chasers and Beaters but a weak Seeker can defeat a team with an excellent Seeker and a weak main line fairly reliably. All they have to do is block the Seeker until they get a fifteen goal lead."

"And how often does that actually happen?" Harry asked. Lupin sat back and watched, a small smile on his face.

"Four out of the last twenty world cups," Tracey admitted. "Teamwork is _hard_ for wizards."

"Exactly," Harry nodded. "Look at it from the point of view of a special saviour: Until this year, I was _completely alone_. Nobody even noticed when Quirrel kidnapped me first year until Dumbledore swooped in on his Seeker's broom after the fact. Then as soon as the Chamber was opened, with no evidence other than that I was a Slytherin and 'a bit creepy', half the school thought _I_ was the heir, just because I was marked as special," He huffed. "I'm not even a Parseltongue!"

"That was a bit unfair," Tracey sighed. "But I don't really see how Quidditch Seekers relate to chosen ones."

"The whole wizarding world has been conditioned by way of Quidditch to look for the special Seeker to swoop in and save the day. Magic makes people lazy. That's why so many detentions around here involve 'clean the thing without magic'. To try and teach people the value of elbow grease…"

"For the most part it just seems to teach them to resent it," Lupin decided to rejoin the conversation with a wry smile.

"Quite," Harry sighed.

"Alright, I guess I see where you're coming from," Tracey grumbled. "I still think people can choose the lessons they take from things, though. A good, team effort can overcome any special snowflake no matter how twisted or powerful they are."

"Are you sure you're a Slytherin?" Lupin quirked a grin. "That's an awfully Hufflepuff thing to say."

"Teams need leaders," Tracey smirked back. "And to be honest, most people aren't capable of that kind of organised effort. I'm too misanthropic to practice what I preach, although I'd like to think it's pretty telling that my best friends are the broken saviour and a Hufflepuff."

"... come again?" Harry asked.

"Well, you're supposed to be a big old hero, champion of the light, and so on," Tracey smirked back. "But you're a lonely kid who strays close to the dark."

"What's that supposed to mean?" He asked, irritation flaring.

"You used explosive fire magic on a first year," Tracey pointed out. "Your first instinct when threatened is to strike back."

"I wanted her to stop trying to kill me. Fire is good for that," Harry folded his arms, sulking, much to the amusement of the other three.

"It wasn't a criticism. But I won't call you that again if it winds you up this much," Tracey smirked.

"Light and Dark are ephemeral concepts in any case," Lupin said with a little smile. "They don't stand for anything. They have no inherent principles. The concept of a 'light champion' only exists because it's the common sense opposite to a 'dark lord', and remember this: Common sense tells us that the world is flat and the sun goes around the earth."

"Finally, someone who gets it," Lash cheered. "There is no Light Side of the Force. There is the Force, and the Dark Side of the Force."

"I'll have to remember that one," Tracey chuckled. "Dark Magic is that which exists explicitly to cause harm. Common sense says that healing magic would therefore be Light Magic… but common sense tells us the earth is flat."

"I swear, if you start finding excuses to work that phrase into everyday conversation, I will turn your glasses red and gold," Harry grumbled, only joining the others in their laughter once he felt his disapproval had been properly communicated.

They spent some more time talking about Harry's parents, then Harry and Tracey headed off to their workshop to get in some evocation practice. On the way, Tracey decided to bring up something that had been bothering her.

"Alright. Why are you blaming yourself for what happened to your family?" She asked as they turned onto the passage to the workshop.

"Because it's probably my fault," He sighed.

"I have told you it is not," Lash said.

"How can it possibly be your fault? You were nowhere near them," Tracey argued.

"When I was nine, I used psychomancy to force them to be nice to me," He confessed, quietly. "Sally-Anne doesn't know about it. Nobody does except me and Lash."

"You… mucked around in their heads?" Tracey blinked. "Damn. I wish I could do that to my dad… stop him drinking maybe…"

"No!" Harry shook his head, vehemently. "If he's an alcoholic, he's an alcoholic. Trying to make him _not_ be an alcoholic will cause… it…" He sighed as they let themselves into the workshop. "I didn't realise at the time but I managed to start a war in Aunt Petunia's head between her true nature and my alterations. It manifested as severe depression and loss of focus… We had to go back and alter her memories to match. But Lash warned me there was a chance of it breaking through, of her starting to fade again… and now she mysteriously fell asleep at the wheel? She's always been a careful driver."

"On Christmas Day, after spending it with what you've told me is a singularly unpleasant woman? She probably drank too much," Tracey snorted. "No, this isn't your fault at all, Harry, and you'll do yourself no favours beating yourself up over it. Not once Malfoy realises that he's the closest thing you have to a free and living relative."

* * *

The new term started all too soon, although it brought with it the return of Sally-Anne and Susan Bones.

It also saw the return of Nott, who seemed to be in an even more vicious mood than usual. He cornered Harry, Tracey and Sally-Anne as they headed towards the great hall after the first Arithmancy class of the new term.

"Still alive, then, Potter?" Nott drawled. "He's been spotted nearby, you know. In Aberdyfi," He smiled, nastily. "Nearly your chance, hey?" He added, moving as if to clap him on the shoulder and stumbling as Harry twitched out of the way.

"You seem awfully well informed, Theo darling," Tracey simpered. "Been colluding with your dad's old Death Eater friends?"

"I'm not stupid," Nott snorted. "Anyone with half a brain could put the pieces together. And I'll have you know that my father, among others, was the victim of the Imperius Curse. He was cleared of all crimes by the Ministry."

"In theory. You seem to know more of what's going on with Black than what you could find out from the _Daily Prophet_ , Nott," Harry started walking again, forcing the other boy to either chase them or walk beside them.

"I heard the Minister talking to the Heads of House and Hagrid over the break," Nott told them with a smirk. "Apparently he tried to kidnap you after he sold your mummy and daddy out but Dumbledore had sent Hagrid to get you first. The stupid oaf was crying his heart out over the idea that he'd nearly gotten you killed. 'Specially after Black gave him his bike."

"Wait, if Black wanted to kill me back then, why would he give Hagrid his bike to get me to safety quicker?" Harry asked, frowning.

"He sabotaged it, of course?" Nott didn't sound as sure as he was trying to. "Let me know when you go after him though. I'll watch your back."

"Mhm, I'll do that," Harry didn't sound convinced.

"He is not your friend," Lash agreed. "He probably wants to sabotage you."

"Can you go grease up something else, Nott?" Tracey asked. "You're putting us off our upcoming lunch."

"I wasn't talking to you, halfie," Nott sneered. "You'd do well to be shot of her if you're going to climb the ranks. She's unreliable."

"It may have escaped your notice, Nott, but I am also a half-blood. Besides, wasn't your grandmother muggleborn?" Harry asked, pleasantly.

"Even the child of a muggleborn is better than being half muggle," Nott said with a sniff, but he went and sat a way aways from them at the Slytherin table. By way of mutual agreement, the two half-bloods followed Sally-Anne to the Hufflepuff table for lunch. Tracey sat next to her, with Harry on Tracey's other side.

"Harry Potter," Malfoy was the next to interrupt them. Harry groaned slightly as he finished assembling his salad before looking up at the blonde.

"What can I do for you, Mr. Malfoy?" He asked, matching his drawl.

"I just wanted to convey my sympathies for your… _terrible_ … loss," Malfoy couldn't have sounded more scathing if he tried. "And to reassure you that you will always have a home with the Malfoys."

"Uh, thanks, Malfoy…" Harry blinked. "I already have plans for the summer though."

"Well, you simply must spend at least _some_ time at my family estate. It would be incredibly gauche to do otherwise," Malfoy said. "I will let you eat, however. There's plenty of time to discuss it."

He left to get his own lunch, leaving Harry to reach up under his glasses and rub at the bridge of his nose.

"The Dursleys die and all of a sudden everyone wants to be my friend," He grumbled.

"Actually, Madam Bones said to offer you shelter as well if I spoke to you before Susan did…" Sally-Anne stammered. "It's not just the dark families. Although she can't take you in b-because she has responsibility for a criminal..."

"I thought they acquitted you?" He frowned.

"I still have a record," She shook her head. "Because I _did_ attack a notarised official with wandless magic, even if it was ruled to be justified," She grimaced. "They keep a list of people like me just in case. You're probably on a list somewhere at the ministry too after last year..."

Harry sighed.

"No good deed goes unpunished," Tracey quipped, dunking a corner of bread in her soup. "Malfoy's not actually your blood relation though, so he's not got an especially stronger claim than anyone else. There was a Black/Potter marriage, but it was more along the lines of your great uncle and his grandaunt."

"How does a Black marriage tie back to Malfoy?" Harry asked, feeling a headache coming on.

"His mother's maiden name is Black," Tracey explained, then smirked as he rubbed at his forehead. "Oh, no, you don't get to complain. I had to _memorise_ twenty-eight family trees and they are all that complicated."

"I thought the Dursleys were bad, but your dad's insane," Harry told her, frankly. "Does he seriously expect you to try and pick up random strangers for the sake of eugenics?"

"And to try and matchmake appropriate pairings in the rest of the school," She nodded. "You're an honorary pureblood on that note, and he'd be happy to know you're getting on so well with Sal."

Sally-Anne squeaked and stared at them.

"Uh, not that you're not cute and all, Sally-Anne, but I'd rather focus on my studies right now," Harry told the blonde sheepishly.

"Th-that's quite alright…" Sally-Anne mumbled into her lunch, cheeks flaming.

The rest of dinner was predictably awkward.


	18. Barks and Bites

Disclaimer: Harry Potter is property of JK Rowling. The Dresden Files are property of Jim Butcher. Original story concept and books 1 and 2 belong to Silently Watches. For the events of those books, see his story A Deal with a Devil available on at s/11188292/1/Deal-with-a-Devil

* * *

 **Chapter 18: Barks and Bites**

A week later, Lupin slipped Harry a note that he'd found a Boggart and was ready to help them with their anti-dementor training on Thursday night in his usual classroom. Harry, Tracey and Sally-Anne turned up dutifully, with Lili hiding in the front of Harry's robes. Professor Lupin let them in with a brief smile and locked the door behind them.

"The last thing we want is for this thing to get into the rest of the compound," he explained. "I can deal with a Boggart if it gets out of hand, but a Boggart in Dementor form that has free reign of the campus would be a disaster."

"That makes sense," Harry agreed. "Alright. We think we've figured out how to make the Boggart think that it should become a Dementor."

"Excellent. How?"

"The same way we focus on our happy memories for the charm," he replied. "Healer Tonks says it's a low-level Occlumency technique. Build an image in your mind and hold onto it solidly. Every time something distracts you from it, return to that foundation."

"Excellent," Professor Lupin smiled. "I wouldn't have thought of that. Occlumency is a rare skill outside Mind-Healers and Unspeakables, but it sounds like it could be useful here."

"You aren't an Occlumens, sir?" Tracey asked.

"No, not at all," he chuckled. "I have a very strong natural mental defence, and psychic predators are very rare in the world. Those that do exist tend to be warded off much more effectively by a Patronus or have their own ways of banishing them, like the Boggart." He crossed over to a low chest that was now sitting next to the cage he used to hold Creature specimens. "Before we start, let me see what you can do on your own."

The three students looked at each other, raised their wands and concentrated.

" _Expecto Patronum_." All three of them said at once. Sally-Anne's was, as usual, the strongest, with Harry's a close second and Tracey's lagging behind a little.

"Alright. Who would like to have the first try?" Lupin asked, moving away from the crate and pulling out his wand.

"I will." Harry offered, as they had planned. If the Occlumency trick didn't work, the hope was that the Boggart would read Lili first, given that the little faerie legitimately found Dementors to be the most terrifying thing she had ever encountered.

As Harry moved to the front of the group, focusing on the Dementor, Lupin gestured with his wand to unlock the chest and the Boggart rose out of the top, the lid banging against the floor as it flew open. Whether it took its cue from Harry or Lili didn't matter because there in front of them, projecting a creeping wave of cold, was a Dementor. The smell of woodsmoke filled his nose and, somewhere, someone screamed. He switched from focusing on the Dementor to focusing on his memory of watching a movie with Aimee, and attempted to call his Patronus. The silver mist formed, and a moment later it was joined by Sally-Anne and Tracey's, and the Dementor was forced back into the chest. Lupin closed the lid on it with a thud.

"Well done," he told them, and passed around small squares of chocolate. "Take a moment to rest and we'll do it again."

* * *

It was, predictably, the middle of the night when Harry's medallion started to burn against his chest. He dragged himself groggily out of bed and pulled on his robes and belt over his pajamas, rushing to the common room where he met Tracey in a similar state. They linked up with Sally-Anne and Lili by the compound gates, then he ghosted the girls up one after the other while Lili _cracked_ up with her own magic.

"I think we're in time," Tracey grinned, fiercely. "Are you guys ready?"

Lightning split the sky, earthing nearby, and a gust of wind swept a sheet of rain in, soaking them.

"We'd better be," Harry grinned back, and dispelled the veil over their vials. Each one held a mouthful of red potion, indistinguishable if they hadn't been sitting on labels. He passed the other two theirs, and they set their wands over their hearts.

"Amato Animo Animato Animagus," They chanted together, and the second heartbeat was so strong it nearly put Sally-Anne on her knees. Then they swallowed the potions.

Pain tore through Harry's body, a fiery scourge that made him remember how Lash had looked, protecting him from the Dementor. The double-heartbeat thundered through his bones as the animagus ritual drew the fury of the storm through his body despite the cave. He felt his bones dissolve as a silvery form appeared in his mind's eye, filling out as he shrank. A glistening brown shell … not a shell, an exoskeleton. Eight long, spindly legs. Four large eyes in the middle of its head, two more at either side… a white lightning bolt slashing through the brown of his abdomen. The spider's mind brushed against his, fear and panic attempting to overwhelm his control. He forced it down, remaining dominant. If he was to be a spider, then a spider he would be, but on his own terms.

Then it was over. The cave loomed large over him. His field of view was much wider than he was used to. He realised a moment later that he could vaguely see half of his own legs. Despite the radically different body size and shape, his new form felt… _comfortable_. The spider's instincts that had tried to overwhelm him during the transformation sat quietly at the back of his mind, interpreting the information provided by his new senses. He could feel the movement of the air over his hairs, although it was mostly overwhelmed by the gusting storm winds. The minute vibrations through the floor of the cave that told him there were three large creatures nearby. The slight hum, just barely audible under the storm, of something very large flying nearby. He realised a moment later that it was probably Lili.

"Harry..." Lash whispered, her voice inflected oddly. "Congratulations. You're _latrodectus hesperus_." She sounded… warm. Affectionate. _Honoured_ maybe? "A black widow spider. While not dangerously venomous, you can produce some of the strongest silk in the world. However, you are also six millimetres across and there is one more large creature here than you were expecting. I would suggest turning back and grabbing your wand before someone eats you by mistake."

Harry froze at that. Three. Why were there three? There should only be two creatures… he concentrated, visualising his human form as hard as he could. It took what felt like a painfully long time to turn back.

"It… gets easier," a hoarse man's voice he did not recognise said. "The more you change, the easier it gets."

Harry looked up at the sound, automatically moving in front of Tracey and Sally-Anne, who had yet to turn back. Standing at the back of the cave, holding their wands, was a gaunt man with long, stringy black hair.

"Sirius Black?" Harry said, warily. He focused his will on his shield bracelet, ready to call it up, but for now the man wasn't even pointing any of the wands at them. He slipped his flame wand out of his pouch, just in case.

"I suppose I am." Black tilted his head onto one side, then grinned wolfishly. "And you… are Harry Potter. You look well."

"Er… thanks?" Harry blinked, then straightened from his defensive crouch although he kept the flame wand in hand.

"Something does not add up," Lash agreed with his assessment.

"Just like your father… but with your mother's eyes…" Sirius seemed a little spaced out. He wasn't even looking at them directly. "And an animagus at thirteen. Your dad and I didn't manage that until our fifth year…"

"You knew my father?" Harry asked. "What did he turn into?"

"Knew him?" Black barked out a bitter laugh. "Prongslet, I was his best man. He was a stag. There were four of us... If Wormtail hadn't betrayed us, I'd have been your godfather…" he trailed off, staring down at him. "Merlin, you're so small… does Remus not _feed_ you?"

"Remus?" Harry frowned. "You mean… Why would Professor Lupin be feeding me?"

"If anything happened to me, you were supposed to go to Remus if James and the Longbottoms died…" Black trailed off. "Then _Peter_ …" he hissed the last name hatefully.

"I live… lived... with Uncle Vernon and Aunt Petunia," Harry said, bringing his flame wand up as Black's expression twisted with rage.

"Dursley?! Who the flying fuck thought Dursley was a good idea?!" He raged, his grip on Harry's holly wand tightening to the point where it creaked. " _Incendio!_ " He lashed a thin ribbon of flame out of Harry's wand against the side of the cave, standing frozen at the end of the motion as he got his breathing back under control.

"Mr. Black…" Harry said, slowly, hesitant to draw the volatile man's attention back to himself. "I was given to believe you wanted to kill me… what is going on?"

"Kill you? Never!" He looked back at the trio, silver eyes cleaning with reflected lightning. "You're my godson. I would never hurt you. I…" He stopped, and sat down suddenly, tears leaking from his eyes. "I heard about… what happened with the basilisk. I had to make sure you were okay…"

"Harry, be careful…" Lash murmured as he moved forwards.

"I am," Harry replied to both of them, softly, putting his flame wand away and crossing to kneel next to Black. He gently took the three wands from the man's unresisting fingers. "I'm fine. I have friends, who are also fine," He hugged Sirius gently, trusting his instincts.

"I'm glad…" Black whispered, and hugged him back, crushingly tightly. Harry's robes grew wet as the older man cried tears of pain and relief into his shoulder. They stayed that way until Sirius got himself back under control. "So… are you going to introduce your friends..?" He asked. "I don't even know what the little one _is_."

Harry disengaged himself from his godfather's arms (and that was a strange thought), turning to look at the girls. They were still in their animagus forms. On the right was a half-metre long hunting cat with leopard-like spots across her body and a black stripe down her back. Vertical lines led back across the top of her head from the black circles around her eyes, and white spots decorated the middle of her round ears. She was crouched warily, claws extended from her front paws.

"A margay," Lash provided. "Arboreal hunting cat. Rather touchy… much like Miss Davis. Which means that the other is likely Sally-Anne..."

The other creature was almost twice the size of a normal rabbit. She had long, silky yellow fur and black eyes, set either side of a spiralling horn nearly eight inches long not unlike that of a unicorn. Her mouth was slightly open, revealing a set of teeth almost as impressive as the margay's. Around her front legs were ruffs of silver fur that grew in swirling patterns not unlike the ogham characters that lined her bracelet.

"Al-mi'raj," Lash murmured softly. "Do not startle her."

"Girls… I think it's alright if you turn back…" Harry said, quietly. The others hesitated, before first Tracey and then Sally-Anne began slowly merging back into their human forms. Sirius watched them carefully from behind Harry, still sat on the floor.

"W-What am I?" Sally-Anne asked, shakily, unable to even look in Sirius' direction. "I've never even heard of a unicorn rabbit…"

"I have," Tracey said, with a small grin. "Magical animagus forms are _really rare_. I can't believe I'm saying this, but… Sal. You're a blink bunny."

There was a beat as they considered that information, then Harry winced and rubbed at his head as Lash devolved into hysterics.

"A… blink bunny?" Sally-Anne asked.

"A blink bunny!" Tracey repeated. "They're almost extinct. They're predators from the middle east and northern Africa. _Really_ territorial."

"Why are they called blink bunnies?" Black asked in his hoarse voice. "Looks more like a stabby death bunny to me…"

"Because you blink and they disappear," Tracey explained. "They can apparate short distances silently," She paused, then squinted at him in the half-light. "Also, Sirius Black, if you decide to turn on us after all, you will _never see me coming_. Got that? If you hurt Sally-Anne or Harry, you won't have to worry about going back to Azkaban."

"I won't," He held up his hands in surrender. "Damn, Gryffindor girls are even scarier than when I was in school," He squinted.

"Er… I'm in Slytherin," Tracey said.

"Oh, well, that makes sense," Black nodded, then barked out laugh. "Snake in lion's clothing."

"Margays are actually scarier than lions in some ways," Harry repeated what Lash was telling him. "For a start, they're arboreal. Can climb both up _and_ down trees and leap three times their body length straight up from a standing start," He grinned. "And, of course, they're much, much stealthier."

"Alright, alright, I'm impressed," Black held up his hands. "What did you turn into though? It was too small for me to make out."

"A widow spider," He replied with a smile.

"Poisonous?"

"Mildly venomous. Strongest silk of any animal though," He said, happily.

"I don't know… not exactly a heroic symbol…" Black hedged.

"It is," Harry replied, with quiet certainty. "What are you going to do now?"

"I don't know," He admitted. "I want to finish the job I started when I was arrested, but… I can't get into the school."

"What were you doing?" Tracey asked.

"Hunting down the traitor who sold Harry's parents out. Peter Pettigrew," Black scowled. "He's at the school, I just know it."

"How?" Harry asked.

"I saw him," He said, pulling a piece of newsprint out of his prison shirt and showing them. It was a picture from the summer of the Weasley family – Ron, Fred and George, and their parents – doing their best to smile over a gift certificate.

"Er, that's the Weasleys…" Harry pointed out.

"I know it's the bloody Weasleys," Sirius growled. "But there, on the boy's shoulder."

"The rat? He hates that thing. Carries it everywhere though," Tracey frowned. "What makes you think it's Pettigrew?"

"Pettigrew was a rat animagus," He explained. "And that rat is missing the same finger he cut off when he faked his death. Plus, that dark mark on his front leg."

"I thought that was an artifact on the photograph," She admitted.

"It is," Harry nodded. "The rat doesn't have a mark there. Dark or otherwise."

"Well there's a spell to force him to revert. Moony and I both know it… if I could borrow a wand? Who's best at transfiguration?"

"I am…" Tracey replied, and cautiously handed her wand over.

"What's with the silver ring?" Black asked, squinting at it.

"Just something we're experimenting with," She replied, flatly.

"Alright, alright, I was just curious…" Black said, gesturing placatingly. "So the movement is like so…" He wiggled the wand, "and the incantation is _Homorphe_. It works to turn anyone back into their human form, although you generally need about thirty people to use it on a werewolf without getting mauled," He gave Tracey back her wand, then transformed into his dog form, making Harry wonder just how they'd missed him even in the dark. He was the size of a small bear.

Tracey concentrated, gestured… " _Homorphe," S_ he incanted, sending a pale blue spark at Black. It splashed across his fur, which got a little shorter. She scowled and tried again. " _Homorphe!_ " She cast, this time producing a solid flash of actinic blue that grounded itself in Sirius' fur and forced him halfway back to human form. Sirius finished the transformation on his own before nodding.

"You practice that a few times and if you can tag the rat with it, we'll know for sure," He said, with a fierce grin.

"That does mean we have to try and get the Gryffindors to not… you know… attack us on sight," Harry noted with a grimace.

"Wait… you're not a Gryffindor either?" Black asked, frowning.

"I'm in Slytherin too. Sally-Anne's a Hufflepuff though so we're not all dark sorcerers in training, don't worry," Harry told him, slightly defensively.

"Your parents were both Gryffindors…" Black frowned.

"And yours were both Slytherins," He pointed out with a scowl. "The hat decided I was too good at threat assessment and analysis to be a Gryffindor, too practical to be a Ravenclaw, and too slow to trust to be a Hufflepuff. That and an impossible ambition put me in Slytherin… although being friends with Tracey's pretty much the only good thing to come out of that decision in the end."

"I can imagine it's been pretty difficult when you're surrounded by a bunch of evil blood purists," Black agreed, then gave Tracey a smile when the girl coughed. "Sorry. In any case, you three had better get back to the school. However it is you managed to get out here…" He sighed.

"Harry apparated us up here," Tracey shrugged. "There are dementors in all the gates."

"... You're thirteen and you can _apparate_?!" Black practically squawked. "You need to be seventeen before you're even allowed to test for a licence!"

"Er… oops?" Harry fiddled with his ghosting ring, sheepishly, declining to mention that he'd been doing it since he was nine. "I have a focus for it," He looked off to the side, then frowned slightly. "What were you doing in our cave, anyway?"

"Are you joking?" Black snorted. "Have you seen the weather outside? There aren't many places for a guy my size to hide on this island," He sighed. "Any chance you could sneak me some food out? I don't really want to start depleting the sheep stocks on the island."

"W-we'll s-see what we c-can do," Sally-Anne whispered.

"We can probably manage something," Harry agreed, looking at the timid girl with mild surprise. He gave her an encouraging smile, which she returned, weakly. Tracey gave her a one-armed hug. "The kitchens are right above the Hufflepuff dorm."

"Alright. I'll see you in a minute," Harry told Sirius, before offering Sally-Anne his hand. The blonde took it, and he took them back to the compound gates.

"Are you alright?" She asked him softly as he turned to leave.

"..," He hesitated, then shook his head. "No. Not really. Betrayal… distrust… my parents..," He swallowed. "It's a lot to take in. But we're doing something about it. We're going to get justice."

Sally-Anne hugged him. " _I_ think you're brave enough for Gryffindor. Your parents would be p-proud, Harry," She whispered.

"I'm not ashamed of being in Slytherin," Harry murmured, hugging her back. "Lash approved of it… and I…" He sighed, softly, "I'm far more her student than I am James Potter's son."

"They used to call me the Webweaver," Lash murmured. "Because of the intricacies of my schemes. It's… well, I am proud of you, Harry, and honoured that my nurture has… influenced what is apparently a core part of your identity."

Harry smiled at Sally-Anne, and murmured. "You wrap my wounds with silk."

Sally-Anne smiled, recognising her own words.

"This- this is for you, Lash," She said, and hugged him. "Go get Tracey. I'll sort out a care package for… Snuffles."

"Snuffles?" He arched an eyebrow, then shook his head with a little smile. " _Darbas_ ," he ghosted back up instead of waiting for an answer.

* * *

The Gryffindor dorms were a bone of contention amongst the students. Accustomed to the sharing rooms and living in a tower, they were struggling more than most to acclimatise to the new dormitory arrangements. The Ravenclaws more or less got on with it, not particularly caring where they slept as long as they had easy access to the library, and the Hufflepuffs just shrugged and pointed out that vertical rather than horizontal made little difference and they'd rearranged to share rooms anyway.

The Gryffindors, however, with their chest-beating and noise-making, kicked up a fuss every time someone mentioned the dorms – which had the upshot of making it _very_ easy to find them.

Getting in was another thing entirely. The campus had originally used a key system, but neither Snape nor McGonagall had been happy with a security system that could be circumvented by attacking any random student and stealing their key so a system of passwords had been set up, attached directly to portraits stationed at the bottom of the stairs. Slytherin was guarded by Phineas Nigellus Black and Hufflepuff by Phyllida Spore.

Harry could have gotten in easily enough by hitching a lift in his animagus form, but he hadn't quite got the hang of transforming quickly yet and in any case, it left him few options for getting back out with a rat.

"I could wait in animal form and snatch it off his shoulder as he goes through a doorway?" Tracey suggested. They were sitting in their workshop on the cushions after dinner. "I'm getting pretty good at clinging."

"... I could just ask?" Sally-Anne offered, quietly.

"The problem with either of those plans is that Tracey's the only one who's even close to casting the Homorphus charm," Harry noted. "We need her there. Even if we trade on Hufflepuff good will, there's no chance they'll let a Slytherin into the… wait a moment."

"Have you finally remembered it exists?" Lash asked. He nodded with a definitely not sulky grunt.

"What?" Tracey asked, tilting her head.

"Sally-Anne says she heard Weasley's rat was sick and offers to have a look at it. Tracey goes in with her under my invisibility cloak."

"You have an invisibility cloak?" Tracey blinked at him.

"It was my father's," He nodded.

"And it _still works_?" She asked, incredulously.

"Yes. Why shouldn't it?"

"The demiguise hair normally loses potency after a couple of years," She explained. "Or the enchantments wear off for the cheap ones."

"As far as we can tell, my cloak is made from thestral hair," Harry admitted. "With a slew of other enchantments on top."

"But…" Tracey frowned. "Thestrals don't… I mean, the books call them fleshless. How can you have hair if you don't have skin?"

"Fleshless doesn't mean skinless. They have rather nice coats, in fact," He smiled a bit. "It just means they don't have any visible muscle mass or body fat. They look really… emaciated. I got very angry with Hagrid the first time I saw the school thestrals."

"The school has thestrals?!" If Tracey's eyes got any wider she'd be able to use her glasses as contacts.

"Yes…" Harry blinked. "They pull the carriages. They're really very sweet," He frowned as a thought occurred to him. "From the way you acted before Christmas, I'd have thought you'd be able to see them too…"

"W-why would you say that? What are you talking about?" Tracey asked, swallowing as her mouth dried up.

"Because…" Harry glanced at Sally, "That wasn't the first time you've seen Dark Magic used, was it?"

"I…" Tracey looked down at her trembling hands. She put her quill down and put them in her lap under the table to hide the sign of weakness. "Nobody died."

Sally-Anne reached over and took one of her hands, holding it in both of hers. Harry did the same a moment later, scooting round the table to take the other. Tracey clutched them both tightly, even as she vanished from their mystical senses.

"What happened..?" Sally-Anne asked, the soft candlelight reflecting off her glasses.

"When I was eight, my father convinced my mother to introduce him to the Averys to… to arrange a betrothal. It was all very civilised…" Tracey closed her eyes. "They met us in the Black townhouse as a neutral location. Cygnus Black served us tea and little cakes and they heard my stupid, muggle father out… as he insulted everything the Blacks and the Averys stand for as purebloods and told them they needed to breed with filth and dilutes to make their lines strong again," Her voice broke slightly.

"Then they tried to kill him..?" Harry asked, hopefully.

"Then Cygnus Black used the Imperius curse to force my mother to Cruciate us, and laughed," She replied, her voice going toneless as she vanished from their magical awareness. "They all laughed. Then they got… inventive. You… don't need to hear the rest."

"So your Boggart…"

"I fear that curse more than anything else in the world… the… the worst part is… when you're under it… you don't care. You _want_ to do whatever it is… even while part of you is screaming fear and helplessness the rest of you feels so happy and good to be such a good girl… so well behaved…" her emotional suppression cracked slightly.

"Then the man who appeared during dementor training..?" Sally-Anne asked.

"My father," Tracey admitted. "My greatest fear is my muggle father gaining the power to Imperius me," She kept her head low as the warmth of her friends' hands left hers. Before she could feel the sting of rejection, she was instead enveloped in two pairs of arms as Harry and Sally-Anne hugged her. "So he can… relive…" her voice – and her suppression technique – broke together as tears slid down her cheeks.

"We're here," Harry murmured softly, moving one hand to stroke her hair gently. "We're here, and you're safe."

"We- we won't let anyone hurt you," Sally-Anne rawly promised. "Not like that. Not like _anything_."

Tracey nodded, letting her friends comfort her until she had cried herself out. Then she reached out and picked up her quill.

"S-so," She forced out, brightly. "Gryffindormitory."


	19. Catch the Pidgeon

Disclaimer: Harry Potter is property of JK Rowling. The Dresden Files are property of Jim Butcher. Original story concept and books 1 and 2 belong to Silently Watches. For the events of those books, see his story A Deal with a Devil available on at s/11188292/1/Deal-with-a-Devil

* * *

 **Chapter 19: Catch the Pigeon**

They intercepted Ronald Weasley outside the great hall on Saturday evening, just after dinner. Tracey was under the cloak with Animagus-Harry on her shoulder. Lili was riding in Sally-Anne's pocket as plan B as she approached the third-year redhead.

"Ah… Mis- mister Weasley?" She stammered out, the words doing their damndest to refuse to leave her throat. Only the knowledge that Tracey, Harry and Lac were actually with her gave her the courage to speak to this near-stranger she shared Divination with.

"Huh?" He blinked at her. "Oh. It's the Mouselpuff. I didn't know you could talk. Don't you normally hang around with the traitor?"

"Traitor?!" She squeaked.

"Potter," He waved a hand dismissively. "What can I do for you?"

"I-I h-heared your rat was si-sick," Sally-Anne dry-washed her hands, ducking her head. "I- I know a- a bit about animal medicine… my- my dad's a vet."

"A what now?" He squinted at her blush.

"A-an animal heal… Healer," She replied. Her nerve broke as he scowled. "S-sorry. This was a miss… mistake," She turned to flee.

"Hang on," Weasley reached out to grab her shoulder, only to let go immediately with a yelp as sparks discharged from the point of contact. Sally-Anne fled, leaving the redhead staring after her. " _Girls_. They're all bloody mental… " He shook his head in despair and headed back towards his dorm.

Tracey caught up with Sally-Anne collapsed in the porch over the entrance to the Hufflepuff dorms. She folded the invisibility cloak away and stuffed it into her pocket, kneeling next to the crying girl and pulling her into a hug.

"What happened?" She asked, softly.

"I panicked," Sally-Anne whispered hoarsely. "I- I haven't really spoken to anyone but you guys and Susan s-since the start of term… I…" She inhaled, desperately a few times, trembles spreading across her body as she made a strangled sound.

"Ssh. It's alright. I've got you. You're safe," Tracey rubbed her back, guiding her aside as the door to the dorm opened. "Nobody's coming for you."

" _I_ am! What are you doing to her?!" Susan demanded, angrily from the doorway. "What did I tell you about going dark and bitchy?" She had her wand in her hand and was aiming it at Tracey. "Get away from her, Davis."

"Put that away and help me!" Tracey snapped back. "She's having some kind of seizure."

"Oh, Merlin…" Susan winced and put her wand away, kneeling next to them. "Sally-Anne. Sally. Look at me," She took the blonde's hands in hers, rubbing them gently. "You're having a panic attack," She met the other girl's eyes with her own, pinning her with an authoritative gaze. "Focus on your breathing. Breathe with me. In, two, three four. Hold, two three, four. Out, two, three, four. Hold, two, three, four," She said, firmly. She repeated the pattern until Sally-Anne started following it and the trembles started to subside.

"What happened?" She asked Tracey, looking up at her.

"She was trying to talk to Weasley about his rat," Tracey said. "He called her something… Mousey? And looked at her funny, like he was laughing at her."

"Mouselpuff," Susan scowled. "That ginger wanker… I told those bloody lions I'd hex the next person who made fun of my little sister. Looks like I'll have to carry through with it."

"Little sister?" Tracey asked, arching an eyebrow to hide her sudden and irritating nerves.

"She's a ward of my family," Susan replied, narrow-eyed. "Got a problem with that, Davis?"

Tracey looked down at Sally-Anne, who had calmed down and had rested her head against the Slytherin girl's chest.

"No. I'm glad she has someone to look after her," Tracey smiled at the top of the dishwater blonde's head.

" _Oh_ ," Susan breathed, as if she'd just figured out some great secret. "Sals, do you feel up to going downstairs? I need to talk to Davis for a moment."

Sally-Anne nodded, letting go slowly. "Thanks, Tracey," She whispered. "Susie. I'll see you later…" She gave Tracey an unsteady smile, and headed down the stairs.

The other two watched her go, then Susan closed the door with a click and stood, turning her gaze to Tracey and putting her hands on her pushed herself to her feet and folded her arms, lifting an eyebrow.

"What exactly are your intentions towards Sally-Anne, Davis?" Susan asked.

"I like her. She's one of my best friends," Tracey replied. "She's pretty, and witty… and she's a lot stronger than she gives herself credit for."

"That doesn't answer my question," Susan noted. "What's your angle? What's your scheme?"

"No angle," Tracey shook her head. "No scheme. If I was just looking for someone to be a middle finger to my father I'd pick someone who deserved it."

"So you are romantically interested," Susan smirked, triumphantly.

"I didn't say that," Tracey scowled, heart beating fast.

"If you hurt her, Merlin himself would not be able to save you," Susan said, firmly. "You know, some muggleborns can get pretty funny about witch's witches and the boys' equivalent. Half of her friends are in this conversation. Don't do anything to risk increasing that percentage."

"Ugh, you sound like my aunt when you talk like that," Tracey sighed.

"Which one?," Susan asked, relaxing and giving the brunette a little smirk. "The bigot or the hatchling?"

"That statement implies Astoria's not as much of a pureblood fanatic as Daphne. Look, I- I don't want it to be a huge… deal. So if you could wait for me to actually tell her, at least… well, you know. Ask her out… then I would appreciate that…"

"Damn, you really do have it bad," Susan shook her head. "Take your time. Get it right, Trace."

" _Papilla glacio!_ What did I say about calling me Trace?"

"Ow…."

* * *

"I'm sorry," Sally-Anne mumbled in the workshop the next day. "I tried, but I thought- I didn't think it would be so terrifying. Knowing I- I was trying to deceive a pureblood…"

"Its ok, Sal. We know how much it matters to you to be helpful," Tracey smiled at her.

"Maybe if we just tried catching him out in class? We still have shared Defence with the Gryffindors and he does tend to bring it with him," Harry suggested.

* * *

"Now, I understand your last teacher is quite well known for his wanderings with werewolves. Can anyone tell me a way to force a werewolf to return to human form during the full moon?" Lupin asked. Tracey couldn't have prayed for a more perfect lead in as she stood, whipped out her wand, pointed it at Weasley, who was sitting in front of her, and cried;

"Homo-yeowch!" She helped and jerked upright as a stinging hex hit her on the backside.

"Not quite, Miss Davis." Professor Lupin couldn't quite hide his smile as the class tittered. "A tad dramatic, perhaps. Please sit down."

Tracey sat, her face flaming, and pretended to ignore it as Pansy and Daphne sniggered behind their hands at the mudblood embarrassing herself at their behest.

hr

"Damn Parkinson," Harry grimaced. "I was sure we had him that time."

"How can they be so cruel?" Sally-Anne was actually scowling.

"It's alright, I've had worse." Tracey's comforting smile slowly turned soft and sly. "Maybe it's time we tried a more direct approach."

* * *

"POTTER! GET YOUR RUDDY CAT OFF MY SCABBERS!"

"Is that even a cat? It's huge!"

"She's not my cat, Weasley!"

"WHO CARES? CATCH IT!"

Three Weasleys, a Potter and a Jordan chased a spotted grey cat around a corner only to find a dead end holding a vaguely dazed Tracey Davis. She pointed over the rooftop and the redheads and their dreadlocked friend split up to find a way round the building.

Tracey grinned triumphantly and brought the stunned Scabbers out of her pocket, laying him on the ground. "Homor-"

"Miss Davis, _what_ do you presume you are doing?" Snape drawled from the mouth of the alleyway. "Although if… Mr Potter… is involved, I presume you are up to no good."

"We have reason to believe that the rat is Sirius Black, sir," Harry replied.

"Dare I ask how you have managed to reach this… conclusion?"

"Rats don't live for twelve years, sir," Tracey pointed out.

"Miss Davis. I have been considering rendering that rat down for reagents for the last five years. There is no possible way that it is Sirius Black, even if he were an animagus. He only escaped from Azkaban this year," The professor pointed out, irrefutably. "Give it to me. I will ensure it finds its way back to its proper owner in… a few weeks. Perhaps the end of term, since he is incapable of looking after it properly."

"Yes, professor…" Tracey sighed, and handed the rat over.

Snape took Scabbers back to his quarters and locked the door, before reviving him and holding him up by the scruff of his neck.

"Hello, Peter," He smiled, nastily.

* * *

Harry called a council of war in their animagus cave the day after that. Sirius Black stared at the three teenagers, then flopped back against the stone wall and started laughing.

"Well. At least we know Snivellus won't be letting him go," He said, once he'd gotten some semblance of control back. "He has to be able to release him back to Mr. Weasley at the end of term, and he hates Gryffindors enough to keep him away from them until then out of spite."

"Which means we just have to break into Snape's office to retrieve him…" Tracey groaned.

"The minister visits semi-regularly to update Professor Dumbledore on the manhunt…" Lash mused. "If we could time matters so as to reveal Pettigrew during one of his visits, he wouldn't be able to deny the truth. At that point any politician worth their wig would realise the potential profit in reversing the tragic mistakes of their predecessor. Not quite as effective as if the ministry actually had a party system, but it will win him points come election day."

"I have a plan," Harry announced as it formed on the tail of Lash's contemplations. "Mr. Black-"

"Siriusly, call me Serious," the man cut in.

"Serious," Harry continued without missing a beat, "if I could get you past the Dementors, could you break into the office and chase Pettigrew out to where Professor Dumbledore and the Minister are talking?"

"If I had help herding him," He nodded, looking at Tracey.

"I got him once," She agreed. "Sal, have you managed to figure out how to blink yet?"

"N-no," Sally-Anne shook her head, looking down and picking at a loose thread on her robe. "Sorry."

"That's alright. It would be useful but we can do without it," Tracey reassured her.

"You're not any bigger than Lisette in relation to me…" Harry mused. "It shouldn't be too much of a strain. Alright. I'll ghost up and get you next time Minister Fudge visits," He decided. "I won't be able to give you any warning ahead of time though," He grimaced.

"That's fine," Sirius shrugged. "Nothing to do but rest and prepare anyway. I'll be ready. And it's called apparating."

"Who's Lisette?" Tracey asked. Harry realised, somewhat uncomfortably, that they were all staring at him.

"Ah… a veela I pulled out of a vampire nest when... " he gulped. "You know what? Never mind."

"You rescued a veela?" Sirius asked. "You dog!" He sounded approving. "Did she kiss you?"

Harry glowered at him. "She has a daughter my age. _And_ I'm a wizard."

Somehow, Sirius' answering whistle sounded all the more approving.

"So!" Harry declared, grasping for a subject change to escape the awkward conversation. "Sirius, maybe you could tell us a bit about your time at Hogwarts..?"

"Absolutely, pup," Sirius smiled. "Well, the first thing you have to know is that James fell in love with your mother the first time she turned him down for sharing a boat across the black lake before the sorting…"

Sirius' stories carried them late into the night. Harry enjoyed them a lot more once he'd gotten the man away from focusing entirely on his parents and more onto the various pranks and schemes he and his friends had pulled. It was nice to have someone talk about James and Lily other than to try and control him, though.

* * *

"Maybe I should make a focus for it," Harry considered in the workshop, alone with Lash later that week. "It feels like that would help if it's a problem of not putting enough power into the charm."

"It is possible, but there is a problem with that plan," Lash reminded him. "You have yet to cast the charm successfully. Without that, you cannot attune any focus you might craft."

"Blast," He sighed. "I hadn't thought of that. It would just make more white mist until I can figure it out…"

"While a greater shield form might have its uses, the final product is likely to be far more so," Lash agreed. "Given the amount of time attuning a focus takes, it is hopefully not worth the effort. However, there is another concern."

"The form of the patronus matches the animagus form in every one of the admittedly scant examples found," He nodded. "And how useful is a six millimetre spider going to be at chasing down Dementors. Professor Lupin says the form of the patronus doesn't matter, but..."

"Well," Lash smiled. "There is always the chance that your patronus will create patronus webs. Widow Spiders can shoot their webs quite a distance. If the substance of the patronus is inherently inimical to a dementor…"

"I guess that would work. Let's hope so," He sighed. "Or maybe it'll just have a really big aura of influence… but none of that matters until I can find a memory that works well enough."

"Perhaps the first time we met?" Lash wondered.

"I can't think of it without being reminded that you lied to me," He admitted. "Most of our early happy memories have that shadow over them."

"I am sorry," Lash murmured.

"I know. And I forgive you," Harry replied, softly. "I know what it is to be scared… and I'm mature enough now to realise that you were. I never thought that you could feel fear, you're too..."

"Powerful?"

"Faithful," He said. "You have so much faith in yourself. In your abilities… in your knowledge. That's been your biggest downfall ever since you came to me."

"My faith has suffered many blows since then," Lash murmured. "If I could give you a pure happy memory, I would."

"I know," He murmured. "I'll just have to keep trying different ones until I find a memory untainted by loss or fear."

"I have faith in _you_ ," Lash murmured, almost too quietly for him to pick up.

* * *

Tracey smiled to herself as she slipped her _beloved_ aunt's nine inch willow and dragon heartstring wand onto her hand off the desk without tripping the alarm spells on it. Sometimes these purebloods made it far too easy. A ward to detect magical fields moving across a desk might be effective against levitation and summoning spells, or a witch or house elf simply grabbing it, but it did absolutely nothing to detect her effectively muggle hand while her magic was inverted by her suppression technique. She held Daphne's wand in her left hand and dropped the technique.

" _Geminio!_ " She hissed, flicking her wand. She tucked Daphne's original into her robes, suppressed herself, and put the copy back on the night stand before sneaking out to stash the wand in their workshop using Harry's cloak.


	20. Fudging It

Disclaimer: Harry Potter is property of JK Rowling. The Dresden Files are property of Jim Butcher. Original story concept and books 1 and 2 belong to Silently Watches. For the events of those books, see his story A Deal with a Devil available on at s/11188292/1/Deal-with-a-Devil

* * *

 **Chapter 20: Fudging It**

Their opportunity came on the last day of the spring term. The majority of the students had just left for the Easter holiday, leaving Harry's group with almost entirely free run of the castle as the thestral-drawn carriages made their way up the side of the valley. Minister Fudge apparated into the valley just outside the gates wearing a green suit and bowler hat. He was escorted by a heavily scarred Auror escort with at least two prosthetics and a younger woman in a trainee's short jacket with bright purple hair.

Harry watched as they walked into the compound, then ghosted up to the cave in the world above.

"It's time?" Sirius asked, looking up from the game of solitaire he was playing with some pilfered tarot cards.

"The minister just entered the grounds, with an Auror," Harry nodded.

"Which one?"

"Scraggly hair. Scars. Magic glass eye turning all over the place. He had a wooden leg," Harry briefly described him.

"Glass eye? Damn. Might be Moody," Sirius grimaced. "Damn thing can see through anything. Maybe even the animagus transformation."

"The animagus transformation isn't a disguise, so if it only sees through disguises and concealment it might not work," Harry told him. "At least, that's true of my sight anklet."

"Sight anklet? No, never mind. You can tell me all about it over the summer," Sirius grinned. "Let's go bag us a traitor," He shifted into his dog form, and Harry ghosted them back down a moment later.

Dumbledore and Fudge were still chatting in the courtyard. The Aurors were keeping watch over the area. The man stomped over towards Harry as he came back in through the gates, drawing his wand.

"You! Stop right there, you little miscreant! What're you doing sneaking around with a great black dog like that? Shouldn't you be running off home with the rest of the brats?" He demanded.

"Hogwarts… Caer y Bardd… is my home, Auror," Harry replied, flatly. "Professor Lupin is my family. Everyone else is dead."

"Hmm," The grizzled old Auror squinted, magical eye roaming wildly, then nodded. "Sorry, Potter. Didn't realise that was you. Nice anklet. Very good idea," He stomped back to the minister.

"That… was creepy," Harry muttered, and headed for the staff offices.

"The eye must be able to detect magic items as well as whatever else it does," Lash mused. "If you get the opportunity, it would be good to talk to him about it some time. His shoulder patch said Moody, so your godfather's assumption of his identity is likely correct."

Harry nodded, although he couldn't reply with Sirius right there. He followed the twisting paths of the compound until he reached Snape's office. A quick glance up showed him Tracey already in position on the roof. Invoking his anklet, he scanned the area. "We're clear," He reported.

Sirius changed back. Harry handed him Daphne's willow wand and the fugitive counterspelled the advanced locking charm on the door using an Auror-grade unlocking charm. They moved into the office, covering the corners with their wands.

"You're surprisingly good at this, pup," Sirius told him. "Been in many fights?"

"More than I would have liked," Harry replied. "There," He lowered his wands when he found the small cage with Pettigrew inside. "Change of plans. That cage is small enough for me to carry. We'll take it back and perform the charm right there in front of him."

"Right," Sirius nodded, shifting back to dog form. Pettigrew started going crazy inside the cage, throwing himself against the bars before trying to chew them open. Whatever Snape had made the cage of must have been stronger than steel, however, as the rat's teeth didn't even start to abrade it.

Harry picked the cage up by the handle on top of it and held it carefully away from his body to avoid any chance of being bitten through the bars. Outside, he waved Tracey down to join him and found that he wished for Sally-Anne's quiet presence as well. The muggleborn had gone out on the carriages, however, in accordance with her movement restrictions under the ministry.

Tracey shifted back to human once she was on the ground. "We doing it there? Probably easiest," She admitted. "Going to play it off as performing for the crowd?"

"I think so," Harry nodded. "Who knows? Auror Moody can't see through animagus transformations either…and Snape's gone off with the students so there's no chance of him interfering this time."

Harry and his companions jogged back to the courtyard, only to find that the Minister's party had moved on. Sirius sniffed around for a moment, before leading them out towards Trelawney's folley. Harry started to get a sinking feeling as they left the protection of the compound proper. Some of the dementors had left their place at the Gates to hover inside the valley, just visible as shadows against the ceiling.

They caught up with the minister's party as they left Trelawney's. The short politician was looking up at Dumbledore next to him, turning his bowler hat in his hands in an obvious nervous habit.

"I suppose it was too much to hope that your pet seer would have found him…" Fudge was saying as they came into earshot.

"Professor Trelawney's abilities have always been more focused on temporal divination than locational… Heisenberg's Principle of Divination applies to the best, I'm afraid," Dumbledore replied, before looking down the path. "Ah, Mr. Potter. Miss Davis. Did you have something you wanted to discuss with the Minister?"

"Ah, Albus, I'm not really sure we have time to-" Fudge started, apologetically.

"Yes, Professor, we do," Tracey talked over the ostensibly most powerful man in the country without batting an eyelid.

"We discovered this animagus sneaking around in our dormitory," Harry said, putting the cage on the floor in front of them. "He didn't look much like the pictures of Black on the posters, but… a man in a girls' dormitory…" He trailed off meaningfully.

"You caught Sirius Black sneaking around in a girls' dormitory?" Fudge's eyes lit up as they had hoped they would. "Albus, do you know a spell to force him to reveal himself?"

"I do indeed," Dumbledore lifted an eyebrow.

"Excellent. Just in case, though, I'd like a bit of extra protection…" Fudge smiled, and pulled out his six inch spruce wand. Raising it to the air, he performed a little ampersand-like gesture before intoning; " _Expecto Dementum!_ "

"Did he just summon a dementor?" Lash wondered, her voice vaguely horrified. She only relaxed a little when rather than coming out of his wand, a trio of the foul creatures swooped in from the swarm above.

"If you wouldn't mind stunning him, Minister?" Albus asked, as he drew his fifteen inch elder wand and focused his mind on the notoriously difficult homorphus charm.

"Of course… _Stupefy_!" A pale bolt of sparking red light flashed out from his wand to hit the rat. Harry opened the cage cautiously, and placed the stunned rat on the ground.

Dumbledore twisted his wand through the motions and launched the blue spell at the rat, which expanded from the head and rapidly became a fat, balding man in grey robes.

"Oh. That is not Sirius Black." Fudge frowned.

"No, it is not," Dumbledore agreed, interestedly. He crouched next to the man and turned his face. "In fact, I do believe it is Peter Pettigrew."

"The war hero?!" Fudge yelped.

"The _martyr_ ," Dumbledore agreed. "Apparently less martyred than we were led to believe…" he frowned, and reached to draw Pettigrew's sleeve back.

Then everything went wrong. Fudge's weak stunner, more showy than effective, had been broken by the shock of the forced transformation. Pettigrew was playing dead. At the threat of being revealed, however, his nerve broke. He scrambled to his feet and drew his wand, preparing to apparate away.

"Rrr…. ou… don't..!" Sirius began talking before he began transforming, rendering his words unintelligible as he lost his religion at the idea of Pettigrew escaping again. He still had Daphne's wand in hand as he aimed it skywards to cast an anti-apparition ward. Angry, desperate and Azkaban-tormented he may have been, but he hadn't graduated from the Auror academy with top marks for nothing.

Pettigrew abandoned his attempt to throw himself at Dumbledore, grasping for his wand. Moody threw himself between the descending Dementors and the two children, while the Auror trainee knocked Fudge to the ground and covered him with her body.

"No! Sirius!" Harry called as he retrieved his own wand. " _Expecto_ _patronum_!" He cast, fixing his mind on the purest happy memory he had, of sitting with his friends in the Luthiery simple chatting about nothing. Next to him, Tracey performed the same charm, both of them conjuring a thin mist that struggled to coalesce as the dementors ripped away those happy memories by the sheer weight of their presence. One of them descended on Sirius, hood lowered in preparation.

"No… no! I… I won't let you beat me..!" Tracey sobbed, her mist intensifying, shrinking as it tried to coalesce.

"Damn," Moody growled. He turned and grabbed the two students as more Dementors swept down on the group, attracted by the failing patronus charms. He reached for his magic and _twisted_ , disapparating them through the collapsing ward with a sharp crack.

"No! Take us back!" Harry demanded. "You have to take us back!" He kicked Moody in his good knee, forcing him to the floor, and reached for his ghosting ring. " _Dar-_ "

Moody grabbed his wrist and wrenched his arm behind his back painfully, slapping the back of his head to knock his glasses off and rolling on top of him.

"No," He growled. "I won't let you get yourself killed for nothing, boy. Tonks and Dumbledore will save them."

"Sirius is innocent!" Harry screamed, not even noticing the tears that were running down his face. "You could have saved him!"

"How, Potter?" The grizzled Auror snarled. "By letting you get Kissed?"

"If you cast a patronus you could have saved us all," Tracey hissed, fear blending into impotent fury into nothingness as she slipped into her suppression technique. She crouched, ready to attack, but she had noticed something that Harry was too blinded by emotion to realise.

"Are you joking, girl? Less than ten percent of wizards can cast that spell and I'm not one of them," Moody snarled. "Now settle down before you spook someone; and pay attention to your surroundings."

He let Harry go with a little shove, sending him tumbling to the floor. Harry scrabbled to retrieve his glasses and looked around, still holding them by the arms.

They were surrounded by a full squad of ten brown-coated Aurors with their wands out in a low-ceilinged circular room. The Ministry seal was laid into the white marble floor along with the emblem of the Auror's office.

"What's the situation, Moody?" An eleventh Auror, just entering the room, asked. He had a leonine cast to his features, yellowish eyes gleaming shrewdly behind wire spectacles.

"Pettigrew is alive. Black is dead. Tonks, the Minister and Dumbledore are with them along with about a hundred Dementors," He told them. "In the valley on Bardsey."

"Right. Shacklebolt, Robards, patronus duty. Dawlish, Angel, apprehensions. Moody, well done. Take the kids for a hot chocolate. You all look like you could use one," The leonine Auror commander ordered, immediately followed by four cracks of apparition. "Everyone else, back on standby," He turned and held the door for Moody. Harry and Tracey hesitated, before following the grizzled old veteran out into the desk-maze of the Auror Office. Moody's leg made a rhythmic click-thump as he marched over to the break room. Harry reached for his ring again, only for Lash to put her hand on his arm and shake her head.

"He's right," She said, softly. "It's too late. We would only get in the way."

"Bloody Dementors," Moody grumbled, holding the door open. "Bloody Fudge. What kind of an idiot assigns dementors as bodyguards anyway?" He flicked his wand around, levitating two blue cups with the Ministry's coat on them and a battered and scorched Noggin the Nog mug with a lid over to the sealed milk jug. A switching spell moved the milk to the mugs without having to unseal anything, then a flame charm shaped like a little chimera brought all three to near boiling.

"Did… did you just use Fiendfyre to heat milk for a drink?" Tracey asked, faintly.

"Only way to make sure it's just milk and no poisons or potions," Moody grunted, bringing out a packet of cocoa powder from somewhere inside his Auror coat and mixing it into the drinks. "Good purifying force, fire. Those will be hot, mind," He added, flicking the two generic mugs over to a little table between two couches.

"Thank you, Auror…" Harry whispered, sitting down with a soft thud. His rage had burned itself out with Lash's gentle admonishment and now he just felt profoundly empty and drained. "I've been telling people that for over a year," he added, thinking of Hirano's burn scars.

"You sit down too, girl," Moody ordered Tracey. "Terrible business. Takes me bloody ages to get over it every time I see one of those damn things."

"You… you have trouble with them too, sir?" Tracey asked, sitting next to Harry and taking the mug he wordlessly passed to her, wrapping her dementor-frosted hands around the nearly-too-hot blue ceramic despite the thawing pain.

"The more nasty shit you've seen, the worse they hit you," Moody grunted, pointing at his facial scars. "I've seen so much crap earning these that I'm practically useless around the buggers. Looking forward to next year, really."

"Why?" Harry asked, miserably. He recognised what the old Auror was doing, trying to distract them from what they'd seen, but he didn't care to be distracted.

"Retiring from the force as soon as Tonks lengthens her jacket," He replied. "Gonna get a nice quiet job as a schoolteacher."

"Teaching Defence?" Tracey asked, a little more willing to be distracted than her male friend.

"Aye, that's the short of it," He agreed. "Take my advice, you two," He groaned as he plonked down on a squashed chair opposite them, hauling his prosthetic leg up onto a coffee table with a wooden thud. "Don't join the Auror office. It's not worth your health."

"I'm thinking about giving up on the wizarding world entirely," Harry admitted, staring at it. "Seems like things are only going to get worse and the lot of you are pretty crazy."

"Gotta get yourself some OWLs first," Moody said. "And some Muggle certificates if you want to do more than raid bins."

"I can get an OWL inside a year if I work hard," Harry replied. "I have a muggleborn friend who plans to do the same…" he glanced at Tracey.

"I'm a bit behind, but honestly I'm considering it too," She admitted. "I'm not going anywhere valuable on the magic side anyway."

"Where's your Slytherin ambition, girl?" Moody asked with a nasty grin. "Planning to bring shame to our House?"

"I think Daphne beat it out of me sometime around Christmas in first year," she replied with a shrug. "I know my place."

"Bah. That old scrap o' fabric wouldn't have put you in Slytherin if it didn't see something in you. Even Goyle back in my day – dunderhead that he was – turned out to be a genius at beating kids up without getting caught. I think his son's in your year."

"Figures. Gregory's a total minion," Harry shook his head. "But good with plants. Him and Longbottom has to be one of the strangest friendships I've ever seen. I don't think they even talk to each other, just spend hours in the same greenhouse."

Moody grunted with a nod. "Good people, the Longbottoms. Frank and Alice were two of the most promising recruits we ever saw. Pity about what happened to them."

"Why, what happened?" Harry asked, curiously.

"Death Eaters' last hurrah after your old lady did Voldemort in," Moody explained, between sips of his chocolate. "LeStranges and Crouch Junior broke into their manor and tortured them till their minds broke. Cruciatus Curse, nasty business. Very nasty. They were just starting in on the kid by the time we got there."

"They used the Cruciatus Curse on a baby?" Tracey's face was white.

"Know about it, do you?" Moody asked.

"I have been made familiar with the three unforgivable curses," She replied, neutrally.

"Damn, girl," Moody shook his head. "And you managed a shield form patronus despite that. Whoever this Daphne is, she's dead wrong about you. Tell you what. If you two continue to impress me like this next year, I'll put you down for the early OWL myself and throw in my old Auror training manual while I'm at it."

"... thanks, Auror Moody. I think," Tracey ducked her head, blushing now.

There was a commotion outside the break room as the Auror team returned. Moody grunted and stood with a thud to lean out the door, which he then closed firmly before either child could think to slip past him.

"They just brought Black and Pettigrew in," He told them. "Sorry, kids. Looks like they've both been Kissed."

"Damn it…" Harry whispered. Lash's arms slipped around his shoulders, and he leaned into her as he sought the truth in the bottom of his chocolate.

It really wasn't fair.


	21. Finals

Disclaimer: Harry Potter is property of JK Rowling. The Dresden Files are property of Jim Butcher. Original story concept and books 1 and 2 belong to Silently Watches. For the events of those books, see his story A Deal with a Devil available on at s/11188292/1/Deal-with-a-Devil

* * *

 **Chapter 21: Finals**

The summer term passed in something of a daze. Though they hadn't really had time to become close to Black, there had always been a desperate hope in Harry's mind that he could solve the question of his summer lodgings with a sympathetic adult. Once Harry and Tracey filled Sally-Anne in on what had happened, they returned to their studies with a kind of listlessness despite Lili's best efforts to get them focused on the Queen's task. Sally-Anne took over the desperate search for some precedent that would save Buckbeak from the headsman at his appeal, which ended up being scheduled on the last day of exams. Although she wasn't taking Care, she'd found that she felt something of a kinship with the unfairly accused beast.

She was quite hopeful, really. After the incident with Black, the Ministry had become quite focussed on getting things _right_ , legally speaking. Dotting the Ts and crossing the Is. She had even enlisted Professor Jones to act as Hagrid's legal counsel this time since the gentle giant had fallen to pieces at the original trial.

Satisfied that they had done all they could two weeks before the final exams, Sally-Anne joined Harry and Tracey in revising. She was determined to ace her Defence and Runes exams and in doing so prove that she was just as worthy of taking an OWL early as the other two. Anything to avoid further risks of getting her wand snapped and her mind wiped.

The first exam was Arithmancy. Vector gave them a written exam that involved charting out their grades over the next two years and predicting how much extra-curricular time they would need to spend studying if they wanted to get straight Os.

Briefly, Sally-Anne wondered if Harry got Lash's help on exams. From his work ethic this year, it didn't seem likely.

The last day of exams, the sixth, had Defence in the morning. The Slytherins went through the gauntlet Lupin had set up in the courtyard first, coming out looking shaken but victorious, then it was Sally-Anne's turn.

The biggest challenge, she decided, was going to be restricting herself to the Hogwarts curriculum. Standing in the sun at the start of the course, she closed her eyes for a moment before stepping into the paddling pool. She charmed her glasses impervious against splashes and started moving forwards, watching the surface carefully for the little green water-imp. A slight ripple on the surface was all the warning she got as it leapt out of the water to smack into her chest and wrap its fingers around her throat, knocking her down with sheer momentum.

She felt panic clawing at her mind but forced it back with the basic occlumency Andromeda's Patronus training had given her and brought her wand up. _Fear_ \- emotion. _Release_ \- intention. " _Relashio_ ," she gasped past the chokehold and the water - incantation. The grindylow's fingers snapped back away from her under the influence of the spell, knocking him away into the water and stunning him. Sally-Anne hauled her face out from under the water and stumbled to the other end of the paddling pool, hauling herself out over the side and drying her robes with a grimace. The next part of the course stretched in front of her. A series of potholes that presumably contained a creature hazard… she approached the first one cautiously, wand in hand, and reached into the pouch at her belt with her other. At the first flash of red as the little dwarf leaped out at her, she brought her hand out of her pouch and smacked him with the iron ingot she was holding. While he scampered back into his hole, she swapped the iron for a tin cup she's taken to carrying - she mostly used it to drink out of, but this was the real reason. Red Caps weren't the only fey repelled by tin, and she kept the cup out in front of her as a warding gesture. It was enough to make the remaining red caps reconsider attempting to drag her under.

As she stepped into the mulchy bog, she found herself shrouded in a thick fog that came up out of nowhere. She took a step back to get her bearings by aligning herself with the edge of the area, then started picking her way through the muck carefully. She tested each footstep to avoid going off the safe path, just as they'd been taught in class, and shut out the distracting lights that promised a more solid route. She resisted the urge to allow her Wizard's Sight to open and cheat on the exam in case the hinkypunk's true forms were something she would regret seeing. Before she knew it, she was tripping over the far edge of the swamp and looking down at the chest holding the boggart.

Drying herself again, she gripped her wand tightly and opened the chest. She descended the steps, lighting her wand as the top of the chest slammed shut, cutting off the sunshine completely. The wood of the chest gave way to damp stone walls, and at the bottom was a door. She paused, steeling herself, and pushed the door open. Inside was a low-ceilinged room with a wardrobe in it. The pulled open the wardrobe door and took two swift steps back, raising her wand as the inevitable boggart drifted forwards, taking the form of a blue-robed Obliviator, wand in hand. Even as he raised the wand, his head turned into the hamster-like visage of a chaeris, and then into Dean Thomas. Fear surged in her mind. Fortunately, these days, she had a ward against enemies. The memory of Harry, bleeding but standing strong, his wounds wrapped with silver spider-silk and the beautiful blonde woman who held him in a warm, supporting embrace was never far from her mind, and it never faded. Every day it waited there for her to call on it, vivid as the day she had first seen it.

" _Riddikulus_!" she cast at the boggart, and its Chaeris head and human body changed places until Dean Thomas's face squeaked impotently at her from a hamster's body. She sniggered at the sight as it rolled over onto its back, stubby legs waving desperately. The back of the wardrobe opened up and she walked through, finding herself in front of Professor Lupin.

"Thirteen minutes and twelve seconds." He smiled. "Well done, Sally-Anne. One of the fastest times in your year, and you only lost marks because the Grindylow got the drop on you. Go and get some lunch, and good luck on any exams you have left."

Sally-Anne had Divination that afternoon, but Harry and Tracey were free and were attending the appeal. She could barely concentrate on trying to read her crystal ball, she was so worried about Buckbeak. Then something semi-solid formed in the fog, drawing a gasp from her lips.

"What do you see, dear?" Trelawney asked, quietly.

"I see… a disc? No…" She let her eyes unfocus in the way Trelawney had taught them, "A coin. It's old… there are more of them. _Thirty stars fell from Heaven_." The words barely sounded like her own as she narrated the vague impressions that felt almost more like they were in her mind than the foggy crystal ball. " _A traitor's wage from death to life. Thirty lives they led to ruin. Twenty-nine times did Empty Night claim them, till one the Gates did open._ "

She rocked back slightly and shook off the trance. "Oh, my head…" She mumbled, rubbing at her temple.

"Well done, Miss Perks." Trelawney smiled. "Top marks. I will see you next year."

"Thank you, Professor," Sally-Anne stammered out, before making her escape. She skirted around the outer wall of the compound to head for the Lodge as fast as her legs could take her. She saw Hagrid first, then Buckbeak next to him as she came around the ruined kennels. Their mysterious destruction at Halloween had gone almost entirely unremarked upon, being generally put down to a Dementor-driven freak storm. Harry and Tracey were there as well. Sally-Anne relaxed when she saw that Hagrid was stiff and uncomfortable, but not upset. The Minister was there as well, and Professor Jones, and two wizards from the Committee for the Disposal of Dangerous Creatures. One of them was very old and frail, while the other was tall and strapping, with a thin black moustache. Of all of them, he looked the least happy, repeatedly running his thumb across the blade of the unused axe slung through his belt.

"Well, thank yeh gentl'men, for coming out here." Hagrid said to the three people from the Ministry. "I won't apologise fer wastin' yer time."

"No, that's- that's quite understandable, Mr. Hagrid." Fudge agreed. "You, er, have a nice day now." He doffed his hat, then crammed it back on and headed down towards the compound.

"Always good to get paid for a day off. With any luck it'll be a while before we meet again, Mr. Hagrid," the old man followed Fudge, leaving Hagrid and the executioner in an uncomfortable stand-off that seemed to stretch on and on while the students watched.

"Piss off, Macnair." Hagrid growled. The mustachioed man smirked at him and strolled after the other two.

"We- we won?" Sally-Anne asked, jogging the last few metres. Hagrid swept her up in a hug, making her squeal and struggle as her feet left the floor.

"We did." Professor Jones smiled at them. "Let her down, Professor Hagrid."

"Eh, sorry," Hagrid muttered, setting the hufflepuff down on her feet gently. "I can' thank yeh enough, Sally-Anne." He looked at Tracey, Harry, and Professor Jones. "All of yeh. If- if it were just me, they'd never have listened. I can't talk teh people all fancy like. Yeh saved 'is life, all o' yeh, and me job. I'll buy yeh drinks some day."

"Professor Dumbledore said that next year, we should be back at the castle." Professor Jones said. "Which means Hogsmeade weekends. No alcohol for these three though, mind." She wagged a finger at Hagrid.

"O' course not." Hagrid laughed, happily. "As long as the four o' you don't mind being seen wi' th' likes o' me."

"We would never be ashamed of you, Hagrid," Harry said. "You love everything too much."

"I'm still old. An' yer teacher." Hagrid pointed out.

"You're a hero who saved an innocent life." Sally-Anne told him, and hugged him as high as she could manage.

* * *

 **AN:** Sorry for the late posting, I have no excuse save the weather.

There is one more chapter of The Devil's Own year three left before the summer holidays. After I've posted chapter 22: Approved Premises (hopefully next Wednesday as normal!), I will be taking a short break while I finish working on the summer / year 4.


	22. Approved Premises

Disclaimer: Harry Potter is property of JK Rowling. The Dresden Files are property of Jim Butcher. Original story concept and books 1 and 2 belong to Silently Watches. For the events of those books, see his story A Deal with a Devil available on at s/11188292/1/Deal-with-a-Devil

* * *

 **Chapter 22: Approved Premises**

Sally-Anne wasn't sure what to expect from the upcoming summer. She would be living with Susan, her aunt, and their house elf at the family manor for the duration. She had managed to go the whole year without getting into any fights or arguments with anyone in a position of authority, even managing to avoid Professor Snape's ire somehow; with any luck, her clean record would lift the probationary statute on her removal from the List of Malcontents and she would be able to leave the house without an approved escort. With that happy thought, she reopened the book Tracey had lent her for the trip.

"I think I'm going to spend some time travelling," Harry said, apropos of nothing several hours later. "Clear my head."

"I was hoping you could stay with me for a few days?" Tracey offered, hesitantly. "My dad's a tosser, but he can't exactly say no to the hero who stopped Voldemort."

"I can probably manage that," He replied with a small smile, which turned thoughtful.

"Uh oh," Susan murmured. "He's thinking."

"D-don't be mean, Susie…" Sally-Anne giggled softly into her hand.

"Tracey… if I agreed to a contract with you… if we worded it right, so we could end it if at graduation we didn't 'get on sufficiently well'," He offered, slowly. An ugly feeling reared its head in Sally-Anne's heart. She pushed it away, unwilling to confront the implications of her jealousy.

"That would get dad off my back for a year at least," Tracey realised. Nobody missed the way she glanced at Sally-Anne though.

"I- I think it's a good idea…" Sally-Anne managed. "It- it's not like you're going to ac-actually get married…" She looked down, forcing herself to add; "Or- or even if you did…it wouldn't be the end of the world…"

"You'd have to be very careful," Susan noted quietly, watching the two girls. "But I will help you draw the contract up. I'm quite fluent in legal language. My aunt could check it over for me as well."

"Thanks, Bones," Tracey gave her a cautious smile. Outside the window the brick canyons of London started to flash by. Tracey closed her eyes for a moment, then stood up and turned to face Sally-Anne. "That aside… I've been trying to work out how to say this all term... "

"Tracey?" Sally-Anne asked, looking slightly confused. She didn't dare acknowledge the hope soaring in her chest. There was only one thing, surely, the more outgoing girl could segue to after that discussion. Sally-Anne didn't think she'd been subtle. She didn't know if she was _capable_ of subtle any more. The only real question was whether the brunette was about to validate that hope, or crush them.

Tracey reached out and took her hands gently.

"Sally-Anne. Over the last year, you've become one of my closest friends and confidants," she said quietly. "Over the summer, would you like- that is- would you do me the honour of going out with me?"

"Like-like a-a-a da-date?" Sally-Anne asked, stammering worse than she had in months and blushing. There was no way.

"Not _like_ a date, Sal," Tracey relaxed enough to quirk her usual grin. "An actual date. Maybe... to the cinema? And a nice meal?"

"W-won't people object?" Sally-Anne asked, nervously.

"Muggles might at the cinema," Susan said with a smile. "But if you have dinner in the Wizarding Quarter nobody will blink an eye. You could have a proper romantic date there."

"I-I'd like that, Tracey," Sally-Anne replied, looking back up at the brunette Slytherin. "But… we'd have to be chaperoned." She bit her lip. "And, w-won't it cause problems if y-you're getting engaged to Harry?"

"I think I'll survive." Tracey smiled.

"Congratulations," Harry murmured, relaxing back on the bench with a smile.

All too soon they were back in the platform. Susan and Sally-Anne got off first, checking in with the Patrolman who was there to pick them up and take them back to Susan's Aunt's estate. Sally-Anne had a noticeable bounce in her step.

Harry sighed, watching them go, and transferred his trunk to a trolley with a grunt of effort. Damn thing still weighed a ton even after all his exercise and enchanting the inside the same as his magic bag. He started heading towards the barrier with Tracey. "Where do you think we should try first? Maybe Glastonbury," he murmured, thoughtfully. "We could go together," he added for Tracey's benefit.

"Hem-hem."

"It's worth a look, there are a lot of legends about the Tor," Lash agreed, thoughtfully. "Supposedly Avalon lies under it. There's also the barrows on the Ouse to consider…"

"Hem- _hem_."

"How about the Isle of Ely? There has to be some kind of story there… I mean, it's never actually been an _island_ , has it?" Tracey mused.

"Mr. Potter!" The squat witch in a pink cardigan who had apparently had something stuck in her throat snapped his name with an irritable tone as she was forced to follow them.

"Can I help you, madam?" Harry asked, turning to her curiously. Tracey paused to wait for him.

"Now that you are finally paying attention," the witch said in a high voice that was trying for girlish but managing grating, "I am here to escort you to your new, ministry-approved guardians, Mr. Potter."

"I'm sorry, madam, but you have me at a disadvantage." Harry frowned, slightly. "And I have made other arrangements, as you can see." He gestured to Tracey.

"Of course," She smiled, like she was speaking to a small child. "I am Senior Undersecretary Dolores Umbridge. The minister has asked me to ensure you arrive at your new home safely, given recent… tragic circumstances."

"What an unfortunate name," Lash commented. "It seems to suit her."

"I… see. I assume you can prove your identity, Madam Umbridge?" Harry asked.

"Of course." Umbridge looked irritated to be questioned, but she produced her identification parchment nonetheless, in a rather nice blue leather folio. Harry looked it over.

"It does seem to be legitimate," Lash admitted, regretfully. "We may as well see what foolish decision the government have made regarding you before beginning our research."

"Very well, madam Umbridge." Harry gave the parchments back, speaking with exaggerated courtesy. "I'll see you in a couple of days?" He asked Tracey.

"Guess so. You've got my address. Just write when you know where you're staying." Tracey nodded, hiding her disappointment poorly.

"We'll see," Umbridge said impatiently. She took Harry's wrist in a surprisingly firm grip and twisted them away in disapparition without further warning.

* * *

 **A/N:** And so we come to the end of year three.

As I remarked in my last author's note, I'll now go on hiatus until I've finished writing (and, gods willing, Silently has edited) year four, in which Harry will have to deal with impostors, maniacs, dastardly plots and in-laws... as well as other dangerous figures from the dark and distant past.


End file.
